1  HE 


ARQU1S 


THE 


MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 


BY 


HARRIET   PRESCOTT   SPOFFORD, 

AUTHOR  OF 
"THE  AMBER  GODS,"    "THE  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT,"  ETC. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 
1882. 


Copyright,  1882, 
BY  HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 


I. 


IN  the  intense  lights  and  shadows  of  the  high 
noon  of  a  summer  day  there  is  a  consciousness  of 
the  fulness  of  life,  the  brooding  power  of  creation, 
absent  from  all  the  purple  pencillings  of  twilight, 
the  blushing  promises  of  dawn. 

One  could  hardly  be  more  sensible  of  this  than 
when  rocking  in  a  boat  off  Coastcliff  that  day  and 
gazing  at  the  hillside  known  by  sailors  out  at  sea. 
One  saw  there,  midway  in  air,  the  cottage  with  its 
many  gables  and  its  quaint  casements  full  of  flow 
ers  and  blowing  clouds  of  muslin,  with  its  grapery 
and  orchid-house  at  hand,  half  hidden  in  its 
honeysuckles,  in  the  sweetbrier  that  intoxicated 
the  air  about  it,  in  the  white  rose  of  that  perfect 
race  whose  presence  is  a  patent  of  nobility,  that 
climbed  almost  to  the  low  roof  and  thrust  its 
blossoms  of  living  perfumed  snow  in  any  win- 


6  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

dow  that  gave  them  passport.  And  all  around 
the  cottage  were  the  gardens  between  their  walls 
once  mortised  with  earth,  in  whose  interstices 
every  threadlike  grass  had  sprung,  and  over  which 
a  web  of  vines  was  thrown,  falling  and  catching 
and  clinging  everywhere  in  green  content.  There 
were  alleys  of  shade,  with  the  boughs  pleached 
overhead  and  with  moss  beneath  the  feet;  there 
were  spaces  purple  with  the  periwinkle  and  the 
pansy  ;  'through  them  all  a  brook  danced  down  the 
hill,  a  fall  of  sunshine,  of  amber- colored  ripples 
and  creamy  foam.  Ending  in  front  upon  the 
strand  into  which  ran  the  elm-fringed  highways 
of  the  town  under  the  hill,  behind  the  house  they 
climbed  in  terraces  and  sloping  stretches  of  blos 
som  till  the  blazing  beds  of  geranium  vignetted 
the  whole  in  fragrant  fire  against  the  sky.  Far  in 
the  upper  air  a  hawk,  soaring  on  motionless  wings, 
sailed  in  his  superb  flight  till  distance  wrapped 
him,  and  the  fleeting  breeze  darkened  and  bright 
ened  every  leaf  and  spray  as  it  followed  in  pur 
suit.  One  felt,  in  looking  there,  the  presence  and 
suggestion  of  nothing  but  abounding  life,  —  life 
overflowing  in  color  and  warmth  and  splendor. 


THE  MAEQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  7 

But  was  it  life  indeed  ?  Was  it  life  or  death 
that  ruled  the  spell  in  that  charmed  spot  ?  The 
spirit  of  the  hour  answered,  as  a  wind  from  the 
sea  lifted  the  curtain  like  the  banner  of  a  con 
queror,  and  a  sheet  of  glory  cast  up  from  its  silver 
panoply  filled  the  room  with  the  sudden  light  on 
which  two  great  violet  eyes  for  the  first  time 
opened.  A  robin  lit  upon  the  white  rose  stem  and 
swelled  its  throat  to  warble  a  rapture  of  song. 
Then  the  wind  swept  out  again  with  the  tidings, 
to  the  geraniums  that  might  have  deepened  all 
their  flames,  to  the  hyacinths  tossing  loose  their 
mist  of  sweetness,  to  the  breast-high  hedges  of 
spicy  box  which  little  hands  should  one  day  part, 
and  into  whose  sheltered  nests  a  little  face  should 
peer,  rustling  and  rioting  among  them  all  with 
debonair  freedom  ere  it  fled  back  to  the  swinging 
sea.  And  the  weary,  happy  mother  within  laid 
her  cheek  on  Adelaide's  and  led  her  away  down 
the  pleasant  path  of  her  earliest  dream. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 


II. 


FROM  noon  deepening  into  afternoon  above  a 
sea  bloom-bathed  in  veils  of  vapor;  from  sunset 
smouldering  in  the  west  and  outblazing  in  a  double 
world  of  scarlet  glory ;  from  pensive  summer  twi 
light  sown  with  stars,  whose  cool  air  is  a  bewilder 
ment  of  odor  in  this  garden,  with  its  beginnings  of 
new  being  in  such  peace  and  gladness,  the  mind 
will  wander  across  many  an  horizon  of  calm  and  of 
commotion,  through  many  an  arching  heaven  full  of 
varying  weather,  over  the  tumultuous  tract  where 
the  crowded  surges  of  a  sudden  storm  are  crushing 
among  themselves  as  the  mid-sea  tempest-* drives 
northward  on  its  way,  ere  it  pauses  in  the  night  of 
this  same  noon  on  low  equatorial  waters  weltering 
weightily  in  the  midnight  darkness  of  the  after- 
storm. 

A  vessel  rides  there.  So  dark  herself  as  to  be 
unguessed,  she  seems  but  a  high  value  on  the 
shadow  of  the  night.  If  she  flies  a  flag  at  all,  it  is 


THE  MAKQUIS   OF  CAKABAS.  9 

duskier  than  the  ragged  cloud  that  floats  before 
that  struggling  star  and  extinguishes  its  spark.  She 
carries  no  light  fore  or  aft.  A  swift  and  sharp- 
stemmed  craft,  she  is  a  thing  that  hides  herself  in 
the  elements,  that  haunts  horizons  and  that  min 
gles  with  the  tints  of  evening,  —  an  outlaw  of 
the  waters. 

She  rests  now  in  the  havoc  that  the  tropical  fury 
has  wrought,  that  she  may  discover  into  what 
neighborhood  she  has  been  driven,  and  make  some 
slight  repair.  The  sighs  that  rise  from  below 
might  fill  her  sails  and  waft  her  slowly  on,  the 
moans  there  might  betray  her ;  but  they  that  guide 
her  helm  take  care  no  stranger  comes  near  enough 
to  regard  the  one  or  the  other,  and  her  head  has 
been  steadily  pointed  toward  the  low  lagoons  of 
the  coral  reefs,  where  her  freight  shall  be  dis 
charged  and  her  gold  counted  down.  As  she  lies 
deep  in  the  sea,  one  wave  rolling  after  another 
turns  up  its  broad  back  of  phosphorescent  light, 
and  for  an  instant  all  her  blackness  starts  out  on 
the  gloomy  field  of  the  night  —  the  skeleton  of 
shrouds  and  yards  with  something  ominous  of  all 
disaster  in  their  every  line  —  and  is  lost  again  in 


10  THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

the  swallowing  shadow.  Around  her  is  the  deso 
lation  of  the  flying  hurricane ;  if  she  is  spared,  it 
is  through  the  kinship  of  cruel  things,  as  evil  an 
agency  herself  as  the  hurricane.  Warm  puffs  of 
wind  wander  over  her  as  she  rocks,  wind  whose 
heavy  wings  are  yet  wet  with  the  rain ;  but  lately 
cries  were  borne  upon  it  and  the  dead  shocks  of 
the  minute-gun.  But  the  dark  thing  hidden  in  the 
gulfs  of  the  night  had  given  no  answering  sign. 
And  again  there  were  cries  from  this  side  and  from 
that,  as  if  spirit  voices  mocked  at  her  through  wind 
and  whirlwind.  Sometimes  now,  as  a  long  wave 
runs  down  to  lift  the  keel  with  a  different  mo 
tion  from  that  of  the  sullen  swell  on  which  it  rides, 
those  that  lean  over  the  side  see,  in  the  clear  and 
lighted  depth  of  the  hollows,  fragments  of  a  wreck 
floating  by ;  once,  indeed,  a  naked  hand  and  arm 
rise  in  the  gleam  and  are  drawn  down  again,  —  a 
ship's  figure-head  it  may  be,  for  directly  afterward 
the  word  El  Rey  is  spelled  out  in  the  wave  as  if 
with  letters  of  fire.  But  this  other  is  a  human 
face,  with  hair  swimming  out  about  it  in  long  rays. 
Now  an  empty  spar  goes  by  and  drives  downward 
between  the  sea-ridges.  For  many  minutes  noth- 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  11 

ing  follows;  and  now  another  spar  slides  down 
the  side  of  the  advancing  crest.  A  form  is  lashed 
to  it  with  stout  bands,  —  a  half-drowned  woman, 
on  her  bosom  a  little  child,  its  face  nestling  in 
her  throat.  As  the  warm  wave  bursts  and  scatters 
its  blinding  showers,  upbuoyed  upon  the  next  she 
bends  her  head  again  above  the  little  one  to  break 
the  blow  of  the  spray,  —  it  may  be  she  does  so 
still,  no  longer  consciously,  but  by  the  instinct 
that  will  only  die  when  she  does. 

The  nameless  craft  sits  so  low  in  the  water 
that  the  boat-hooks  in  the  hands  of  two  men 
in  the  main-chains  grapple  the  spar  and  hold  it 
a  moment. 

"  Unsafe  —  unwise,  Captain,"  one  of  those  above 
them  says  to  another. 

"  I  will !     I  swear  I  will ! " 

"  Think  twice,  my  Captain,"  urges  the  smooth 
voice.  "Always  best  to  let  them  go  by.  No 
funeral  of  ours." 

"  It 's  a  white  face  and  a  woman's  face,  rare  sight 
for  the  Nigkflrird"  If  the  speaker's  voice  was  the 
more  brutal  it  was  the  more  honest  too.  "  It 's 
a  white  face  and  a  woman's  face,  and  a  face 


12  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

that  loves  life  ! "  lie  cried.  "  As  for  the  rest,  who 
knows  ? " 

"  No  one,  indeed.  And  no  one  cares  to  know. 
The  thing  is  out  of  rule.  The  men  have  a  right  to 
mutiny,  exposed  to  this  danger.  And  they  always 
take  their  right." 

The  Captain  surveyed  him  a  moment.  "  Lend  a 
hand,  Ladeuce,"  he  demanded  then,  as  if  nothing 
had  been  said.  "Here  Jasper!  Jasper!"  And 
with  the  help  that  came  at  this  command  the  bulk 
rose  slowly  up  the  dark  side,  plunged  back  again 
into  the  surge  with  the  stout  bands  severed,  and 
the  woman  and  the  child  lay  upon  the  deck. 

It  was  but  a  moment  before  these  waifs  of 
wreck  were  within  the  cabin,  underneath  its 
guarded  lamp,  plied  with  such  restoratives  as 
were  at  hand.  But  for  one  of  them  the  rough 
effort  was  presently  in  vain.  A  murmured  name 
in  the  ear  of  Ladeuce,  who  had  carried  her,  a  half- 
breathed  sentence,  a  lifted  hand,  and  the  woman 
still  gazed  up  at  the  rude  brows  knit  above  her, 
but  her  countenance  was  only  a  mask  of  clay. 
The  child,  whose  pulses  but  lately  had  been  beat 
ing  so  feebly  against  her  silent  ones,  was  left  to 


THE   MARQUIS    OF   CARABAS.  13 

the  mercies  of  men  who  seldom  knew  mercy ;  and 
it  was  not  many  minutes  before  her  shotted 
shroud  was  wrapped  about  her.  She  carried 
with  her  to  her  shifting  grave  no  evidences  of 
her  identity  that  Ladeuce  could  sequester,  —  no 
ring  upon  her  finger,  no  shred  of  linen  inscribed 
with  delicate  charactery  or  crest. 

When  Ladeuce  returned  to  the  cabin  the  child 
was  in  the  arms  of  the  Captain;  his  little  limbs 
were  chafed  in  spirit  by  the  man's  coarse  hands, 
and  some  warming  fluid  was  forced  between  his 
lips.  Ladeuce  stood  by  in  silent  scorn.  Would 
the  child  have  gone  with  the  woman  but  for 
his  own  misjudged  interference  ?  Would  the 
boy  work  more  or  less  mischief  here  ?  Would 
that  ring,  that  torn  shred  of  linen,  give  further 
clue  to  relationship  or  rank  than  the  words  that 
had  been  whispered  to  him  ?  Was  there  by  pos 
sibility  a  ransom  in  the  case  ? 

Meanwhile  the  boy  had  suddenly  lifted  his 
long-fringed  lids  over  two  eyes  large  enough  and 
dark  enough  to  betray  a  southern  lineage,  and, 
meeting  the  eager  glance  of  the  man  that  held 
him,  a  smile  had  burst  out  upon  his  face,  as  if 


14  THE  MAKQUIS  OF  C  ARAB  AS. 

some  splendid  flower  should  open  all  at  once,  and 
he  held  up  his  little  arms  and  uttered  an  un 
intelligible  babble  that  was  mere  music.  "It 
warms  the  cockles  of  my  heart ! "  cried  the  Cap 
tain,  as  the  whole  thing  struck  straight  to  some 
spot  in  that  savage  organ  which  had  been  unfilled 
before.  "  I  might  have  had  one  of  my  own  —  I 
might  have  had  one  of  my  own,"  he  muttered  to 
himself,  stung  by  something  of  that  same  in 
stinct  which  makes  the  tigress  die  for  her  whelp. 
"  Hark  ye,  Ladeuce ! "  he  exclaimed  then  sud 
denly,  in  tones  there  was  no  gainsaying  while 
on  board  the  Nightbird :  "  And  Jasper,  here ! 
This  is  my  son.  I  adopt  him  for  my  own.  I 
call  him  by  my  name,  Dominique  Dacre,  from 
this  day  forth  and  forever  ! " 

"A  good  name  enough  till  he  comes  to  his 
own,"  said  Ladeuce.  And  something  dropped  into 
his  pocket  from  his  opening  hand  ;  when  the 
Captain's  heartstrings  were  knit  into  the  life  of 
this  boy  he  might  take  it  out  again.  "  A  good 
name  enough  till  he  comes  to  his  own." 

"  He  shall  never  know  another,"  the  Captain 
answered. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS.  15 

"Well,  a  name  that  will  fetch  his  purpose," 
said  Ladeuce.  "  Will  you  add  mine  too  ? " 

"  No  joint-stock  property,"  replied  the  Captain 
good-humoredly.  "  It 's  a  case  where  two  are 
company  and  three  a  crowd.  And  besides, — 
where  did  you  come  "across  that  name  yourself  ? 
It  never  was  given  you  in  baptism."  And  the 
Captain  laughed  as  he  had  not  for  a  twelvemonth, 
and  tossed  up  the  child  with  a  face  for  the  mo 
ment  as  kindly  as  if  no  chains  were  clanking  just 
below. 

"  It  never  was,"  the  other  said.  "  I  've  a  name 
of  my  own.  Perhaps  1 11  wear  it  again  when  I  'm 
done  with  the  Nightbird.  It's  Brown,  or  Gray, 
or  Green,  or  Black,  any  good  colored  name,"  said 
he  with  a  low  laugh.  "  But  as  for  Ladeuce,  they 
gave  it  to  me  with  their  lingo  in  the  Levant,  and 
it  answers  for  the  business  as  well  as  another,  - 
as  well  as  Kidd  or  Ketch." 

The  Captain  threw  the  child  into  Jasper's 
arms  while  he  poured  out  a  bumper  of  brandy. 
"  What 's  to  be  done  with  the  boy  now,  Jasper  ? " 
he  asked.  "  The  little  dog  was  bom  to  live." 

"  What  is  of  more  consequence,"  said  Ladeuce, 


16  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

"  is  what 's  to  be  done  with  him  when  the  Night- 
lird  is  lying  low." 

"  That  is  my  lookout,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  when 
the  time  comes  I  '11  give  my  orders.  All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  obey  them.  You  '11  have  it  soon  your 
own  way,"  he  added  quickly  and  in  a  different 
tone.  "  A  few  more  heavy  freights,  a  few  years 
further  on  —  I  've  hated  it  from  the  first  —  I  shall 
turn  'longshoreman  and  leave  the  ship  to  you, 
Ladeuce." 

"  I  '11  ask  no  more." 

"  Here  's  to  the  Nighfbird's  luck  then,"  cried 
the  Captain,  lifting  his  glass  to  the  ray  of  the 
bull's-eye  that  fell  over  the  three  men  and  the 
child  between  them,  "when  you  are  making 
the  runs,  and  I,  wherever  I  hang  out,  am  dividing 
the  profits." 

"If  we  don't  all  hang  out  to  more  purpose 
first,"  said  Ladeuce,  with  his  low  laugh  again. 

"  Too  near  the  wind,  too  near  the  wind,"  said 
the  Captain.  "Meanwhile  I'll  keep  my  son  with 
me.  Now,  Jasper,  see  what  you  can  do  for  the 
boy  below." 

And  as  Kome  drew  half  her  wolfishness  from 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS.  17 

the  stream  that  curdled  the  milk  of  human  kind 
ness  in  her  first  ancestor's  veins,  so  no  one  can 
say  how  much  of  his  wild  moods  Dominique 
owed  to  the  woe-worn  princess  of  some  fierce 
desert  race,  the  melancholy  and  the  fever  of 
whose  captivity  mingled  like  fire  with  the  young 
current  of  his  blood,  while  the  slave-ship  shook 
loose  again  her  dismal  sails  and  floated  over  those 
dark  waters,  once  haunted  by  the  buccaneer  and 
now  by  her,  till  she  was  lost  in  the  murk  of  the 
night. 


18  THE  MARQUIS  OF  C  ARAB  AS. 


III. 


BRIGHTLY  as  they  did  the  day,  fifteen  years 
before,  when  Adelaide  was  born,  the  gardens 
bloomed  about  the  cottage  on  the  hill,  and  still 
the  perfume  of  heliotrope  and  of  carnation  and 
honeysuckle  filled  the  air  with  an  under-heaven 
of  sweetness. 

But  Adelaide,  in  the  freshness  and  dew  of  her 
youth,  with  a  freak  of  this  flower's  fire  and  that 
one's  color,  was  something  finer  than  the  garden 
grew ;  the  velvet  of  her  cheek  had  the  sweetness 
of  the  rose,  the  midnight  stars  that  looked  down 
on  the  violets  where  she  had  trod  wore  something 
of  the  lustre  of  her  eyes.  She  approached  life 
with  a  keen  interest  in  it.  But  if  she  looked 
upon  it  as  a  drama  in  which  she  was  to  play  a 
part,  it  was  without  a  thought  of  the  world's 
applause,  .but  only  of  the  silent  audience  of  God 
and  her  own  soul. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  19 

Adelaide  was  accustomed  to  the  rude  life  of 
the  coast,  the  fisheries,  the  storms,  the  calms. 
Much  of  her  mother's  property  and  of  her  own 
was  in  shipping,  where  it  had  been  left  by  her 
father's  death.  Going  now  and  then  with  her 
mother  to  their  agent  in  the  city,  fifty  miles  away, 
she  knew  their  ships  and  barques  as  old  John  the 
gardener  knew  his  flowers.  This  was  the  Winged 
Victory,  that  made  voyages  to  the  Farther  Indies  ; 
this  was  the  Ship  of  State,  that  did  business  in 
the  Pacific;  this  was  the  clipper  Puck,  that  car 
ried  cotton  from  New  Orleans  to  Liverpool,  light 
as  a  cork  and  swift  as  an  arrow ;  these  dark  oil- 
soaked  hulks  were  whalers;  this  crowd  of  sloops 
and  schooners  brought  revenues  from  the  seas 
about  the  Georges  and  the  Labrador.  Sometimes 
with  a  glass  she  saw  the  Winged  Victory  slide 
by  on  the  sea-line,  and  all  her  fancies  followed 
it,  its  long  curves,  its  splendid  figure-head,  its 
strange  and  rich  outlandish  freights,  its  name,  its 
destinations,  all  belonging  to  the  other  side  of  the 
globe  and  to  dreams  remote  from  daily  life.  She 
could  not  help  the  feeling  that  the  Winged  Vic 
tory  was  more  her  property  than  all  the  others 
put  together.  She  did  not  believe  it  was  be- 


20         THE  MAEQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

Qause  her  mother,  indulging  a  poetical  side  of 
her  nature,  added  another  pearl  to  her  daughter's 
necklace  every  time  the  ship  came  in,  —  almost 
the  only  extravagance  of  which  the  mother,  who 
spent  her  substance  in  certain  Confederated  Chari 
ties,  was  guilty. 

It  was  towards  nightfall  of  the  southerly  tem 
pest,  whose  force  the  fishing  schooners  faced  as 
cattle  face  the  wind  upon  the  hills,  and  that 
had  shut  in  the  day  and  the  sea  with  flying 
scuds  of  spray,  that  Adelaide  flung  on  her  cloak 
and  went  with  Gascoygne  down  to  the  lighthouse 
and  the  sea.  Nobody  thought  to  gainsay  her,  and 
Allia  made  haste  to  follow  her.  "It  is  delightful," 
said  Adelaide,  making  herself  heard  through  the 
uproar,  "these  drenching  showers  that  take  you 
for  a  part  of  nature,  and  fall  on  your  face  as  if  you 
were  a  leaf  yourself.  When  we  are  out-doors  in 
this  weather  we  are  a  part  of  the  storm.  See  the 
bough  of  that  tree  swing  in  the  wind.  I  am  go 
ing  to  swing  my  cloak  in  that  same  way.  Ah,  it 
would  be  delightful,  I  mean,  if  one  did  not  have 
to  think  of  the  mackerel-men  out  among  the 
shoals,  the  green  seas  washing  over  their  decks 
and  their  sailors  clinging  to  the  —  " 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  21 

"  What  makes  you  think  of  them  then  ? "  asked 
Allia. 

"  I  don't,  much.  I  feel  too  light-hearted.  I  feel 
as  if  some  beautiful  thing  were  going  to  happen 
to  me." 

"Animal  spirits,"  said  Gascoygne,  who  just  now, 
iii  the  warmth  of  his  medical  studies,  referred 
everything  to  physical  causes. 

Twilight  had  fallen,  and  lights  glanced  in  the 
town  as  they  came  down  the  shore.  The  rain  had 
nearly  ceased.  At  intervals  around  them  the 
strokes  of  the  sea,  the  grinding  of  the  broadsides 
on  the  breaker,  the  shriek  of  the  shelves  of  sand 
as  they  tore  away  from  the  bluff,  made  a  tumult 
which  had  a  fascinating  terror  as  the  darkness 
deepened,  till  suddenly,  through  all  the  storm 
shadows,  sailed  up  a  dull  red  flash  smothered  in 
stantly  in  the  waves  and  the  weather.  It  came 
so  full  upon  their  faces  that  they  all  drew  back 
before  it. 

"  A  ship  in  distress  ! "  cried  Gascoygne.  "  The 
packet-ship ! " 

"And  close  in  shore,"  said  Adelaide.  "I  won 
der,"  she  exclaimed  presently,  "if  a  boat  can  be 
launched  —  " 


22  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

"No  sooner  said  than  done,"  said  Gascoygne. 
"  There  they  come  round  from  the  town  with  their 
lanterns,  the  hardy  fellows.  Now,  if  I  leave  you, 
can  you  get  home  alone  ?  I  will  bring  you  some 
flotsam  and  jetsam  if  I  find  any,"  and  he  was 
running  to  join  the  group  that  hurried  to  the 
lighthouse  ledge,  and  whose  loud  welcome  came 
back  on  the  gust ;  for  Gascoygne,  with  his  practical 
sense,  the  gymnast  and  waterman  of  his  college, 
too,  was  no  mean  accession  to  the  volunteers  of 
an  instant. 

"  I  hate  shipwrecks  ! "  cried  Allia,  as  the  two 
were  blown  up  the  hill.  "  It  is  singular  that  there 
•always  is  a  shipwreck  whenever  I  come  to  Coast- 
cliff." 

"  We  get  them  up  to  order,"  said  Adelaide. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  happens,"  persisted  Allia, 
"  I  only  know  it  does  happen.  Now  I  have  come 
to  stay  you'll  be  having  drowned  people  in  the 
parlors ! " 

"That  would  be  dreadful,"  said  Adelaide  run 
ning  backward.  "  Don't  you  think  it  is  lighter  ? 
The  moon  must  have  come  up.  The  storm  is  cer 
tainly  lifting,  except  these  slaps  of  rain,"  as  one  of 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.         23 

them  struck  her.  "  Turn  and  look  at  the  sea  in 
the  moon  that  has  broken  from  the  cloud.  Oh, 
such  a  white  and  black  splendor !  And  there  is 
the  wreck.  I  can  see  it  distinctly,  with  all  its 
ropes  and  ratlines." 

f  *  It  looks  like  a  gallows  ! " 

"  Ah,  how  majestic  and  dark,"  cried  Adelaide, "  in 
the  midst  of  the  white  fury !  And  when  you  know 
it  is  so  crowded  with  eagerness  and  fear.  There 
goes  a  rocket !  A  great  green  shooting  star.  They 
are  pulling  the  cables  across.  I  am  so  glad  the 
moon  has  come  out,  for  with  the  darkness  the 
scene  is  robbed  of  half  the  horror ! " 

"  It  will  go  in  again.  There,  it  has  gone  !  Why 
will  you  talk  about  such  things,  Adelaide  !  Here 
I  am  trembling  in  every  nerve." 

"  You  have  such  a  tender  little  heart!  And  it  is 
shocking  for  us  to  be  so  satisfied  here  while  not 
a  mile  away  they  are  holding  their  lives  by  a 
thread." 

"  I  'm  not  satisfied.  I  wish  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  death.  I  don't  see  why  it  was  made. 
I  hate  it ! "  cried  Allia. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Adelaide.    "  I  should  like  to  live 


24  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

forever  on  this  happy  earth.  And  yet  the  people 
there  —  " 

At  the  door  she  paused  again,  while  the  moon 
scattering  the  clouds  once  more  ran  out  on  their 
long  rifts,  lighted  the  terrible  beauty  of  the  tossing 
sea,  and  gave  its  brilliance  to  the  dying  storm, 
lingered  and  looked  back,  perhaps  in  some  dim 
way  aware  that  fate  was  busy  with  her  in  that 
hour. 

It  was  later  in  the  evening  that  she  was  stoop 
ing  at  the  hearth  to  adjust  the  embers  there,  the 
light  spreading  over  her  face,  when  the  door  was 
flung  open  and  Gascoygne's  voice  was  heard,  and 
the  tramp  of  feet,  and  her  mother  and  Miss  Grey 
and  Allia  were  greeting  a  shaggy  fellow  whom  Gas- 
coygne  designated  as  Captain  Dacre,  and  a  drenched 
and  bare-throated  boy  by  the  name  of  Dominique, 
and  the  boy  had  turned  and  stood  bending  before 
her,  transfixed  as  it  were  in  his  gaze. 

Dominique  had  lived  till  this  night  like  a  young 
barbarian,  in  the  enjoyment  only  of  his  sensations ; 
men  and  women  had  been  shadows  passing  to  and 
fro.  All  at  once  danger  had  unsealed  his  eyes  and 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAKABAS.  25 

he  had  found  two  beings  in  whom  life  was  as  liv 
ing  a  flame  as  in  himself,  the  one  when,  as  he  clam 
bered  hand  over  hand  across  the  cable,  a  splendid 
face  shone  up  out  of  the  sudden  moonlight  that 
lit  the  dark  hollows  of  the  roaring  breaker  over 
which  he  passed,  and  Gascoygne,  who  had  waded 
and  swum  out  with  ropes  round  his  waist  as  far  as 
his  strength  held,  had  his  arms  about  the  boy, 
helping  him  to  shore.  The  way  in  which  the  mys 
terious  and  dreadful  shadows  underneath  yielded 
this  golden  head  and  eager  face  was  to  Dominique 
one  of  those  things  stamped  from  without  as  in 
separably  as  if  projected  from  an  interior  experi 
ence.  And  now  Adelaide,  made  magnetic  for  the 
moment,  perhaps,  by  the  intensity  of  his  own  emo 
tion,  as  a  magnef  lends  its  power  to  steel,  with  the ' 
glow  of  the  fire  overlying  all  other  glow,  and  the  ! 
pitiful  violet  eyes  fastened  on  his  own,  seemed 
to  him,  despite  all  that  might  have  crossed  his 
path,  the  first  woman  he  had  ever  seen. 

"  The  strangest  part  of  it  all  is,"  said  Gascoygne 
as  they  separated  at  length,  he  and  his  cousins, 
when  they  had  stood  a  moment  listening  to  the 
slow  drip  of  the  sodden  lilac-trees,  "  that  when  I 


26  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CAKABAS. 

saw  a  shape  just  beyond,  growing  more  and  more 
distinct,  and  finally  the  moonlight  burst  over  that 
white  face  with  its  wet  hair  and  the  great  wild 
eyes  of  the  boy,  I  felt  as  if  the  storm  and  I  to 
gether  had  made  him ! " 

His  feeling  echoed  in  the  young  girl's  heart. 
She  had  some  unworded  impression  that  Domi 
nique  was  a  being  of  new  existence,  as  if  it  were 
impossible  he  could  have  any  consciousness  in  his 
sixteen  years  of  which  she  was  not  already  a  part. 
And  all  night  long  that  face,  as  she  had  gazed  up 
at  it  when  kneeling  beside  the  fire,  that  white  and 
beautiful  bending  face,  hung  over  her  dreams  in 
the  guise  of  varying  moods,  as  the  reflection  of  a 
star  hangs  in  the  water  when  the  tide  com.es  in, 
and  sparkles  and  shifts  and  changes,  and  is  another 
and  yet  the  same  anew  for  every  wave  that  breaks ; 
and  all  night  long  she  lay  plastic  in  the  hands  of 
those  dreams  that  mould  us  like  fate,  and  come  to 
us  but  once  in  all  our  lives. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  27 


IV. 


THE  stranger  to  Captain  Dacre  found  about  him 
an  air  of  rude  grace,  half  brusque,  half  deferen 
tial,  that  was  not  unattractive.  The  familiar  found 
in  voice  and  manner  a  gentle  pathos  that  touched 
the  heart.  He  was  a  man  apparently  warmed 
with  a  single  sentiment,  —  the  love  of  his  son. 
During  the  days  of  residence  at  the  cottage  that 
were  enforced  by  the  consequences  of  his  expo 
sure,  he  yielded  to  certain  confidential  impulses, 
urged  by  his  nervous  excitement,  in  a  way  that 
made  the  household  know  him  better  than  by 
years  of  casual  acquaintance.  As  he  saw  the  sim 
ple  life  of  the  family,  as  he  watched  the  younger 
ones  out-doors,  he  became  possessed  with  longing 
for  such  training  for  Dominique,  to  whom  all  that 
his  wealth  had  yet  been  able  to  give  was  life  at 
some  watering-place,  where  fine  ladies  made  a  pet 
of  the  boy  for  his  beauty.  What  might  not  such 
companionship  do  for  him  now,  —  a  youth  with 


28  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

such  nobility  and  leadership  as  Gascoygne,  a  girl 
with  such  spirit  and  such  sweetness  as  Adelaide  ! 
For  Dominique's  good  had  been  the  end  of  this 
man's  aims  from  the  moment  when  the  child's 
innocence  had  pointed  a  contrast  with  sin,  that 
had  controlled  him  until  a  stronger  power  had  sud 
denly  appeared  to  him,  like  a  Face  in  the  dark, 
and  made  him  the  subject  of  one  of  those  swift 
Wesleyan  conversions  that  transform  a  whole  na 
ture  and  a  whole  life.  For  Dominique  he  had 
changed  his  business  upon  the  sea,  had  eventually 
left  all  business  there,  had  wandered  about  the 
world  in  search  of  gentle  influences,  had  studied, 
as  he  could,  manners  and  books.  For  Dominique 
he  had  made  himself  a  gentleman.  He  did  not 
feel  a  hypocrite  now  in  resolving  to  render  Mrs. 
Stuart  his  friend  by  assuming  that  the  thing  was 
already  done.  "I  cannot  be  grateful  enough  for 
the  shelter  you  have  given  me,  a  stranger,"  he 
began,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  he  felt  he  must 
go  away. 

"  I  should  have  no  right  to  such  a  pleasant  home 
as  mine,  if  it  were  not  always  open  to  those  in 
trouble,"  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  turning  on  her  finger 


THE  MAKQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  29 

the  ruby  ring  that  she  wore  as  Eegent  of  the  Con 
federated  Charities.  "  And  it  must,  it  must,"  she 
said,  "  have  been  a  fearful  day  —  that  of  the  wreck 

—  an  awful  hour  that  night." 

"  It  was,"  said  Captain  Dacre.  "  And  yet  my 
nerves  are  cast  in  iron.  I  have  led  a  life  that 
does  not  spare  the  nerves  —  an  adventurous  life 

—  for  several  years  commanding  a  cruiser  of  one 
of  the  South  American  States  "  —  which  was  per 
fectly  true.     "  I  have  done  much  that  all  the  red 
gold  of  Guinea  would  not  tempt  me  to  do  again," 
looking  up   quickly  under   his    lowering   brows, 
"  and  the  life  of  a  sea-faring  man  is  at  best  one 
of  dangers,  but  I  have  known  few  hours  like  that 
night's,  when  I  thought  to  leave  Dominique  alone 
or  be  left  alone  by  him.     When,"  said  he  pres 
ently  again,  "  one  has  passed  the  flush  of  his  years 
desperate  deeds  and  he  are  not  friends.     Death 
wears  another  face  from  that  when  his  blood  was 
strong  with  the  strength  that  likes  to  defy.     And 
although  I  trust  I  have  made  my  peace  for  — 
whatever  —  errors —     And  then  too,"  said  Captain 
Dacre,  coming  back  to  the  table  that  he  had  left 
and  leaning  his  arms  upon  it,  while  he  sat  look- 


30         THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

ing  at  her  in  a  way  that  was  pure  simplicity, — 
"and  then  too,  I  felt  I  must  live  to  atone  to 
Dominique  for  the  wrong  I  have  done  him  in 
making  him  my  soa" 

"And  I  have  thought  the  same  about  Ade 
laide  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Stuart,  looking  up  at  the  ivy- 
wreathed  picture  of  the  girl  which  Gascoygne's 
pencil  had  filled  with  something  of  the  life  and 
lustre  of  her  young  beauty.  "If  she  had  a 
stronger  mother  —  I  wonder  if  all  parents  feel 
the  same !  Your  wife  is  no  longer  living  ? " 

"I  have  not  —  no,  Mrs.  Stuart.  Dominique's 
mother  was  lost  at  sea,"  in  a  dry,  hoarse  tone. 

"  That  is  so  sad.  And  what  a  handsome  lad  he 
is ! "  glancing  at  the  group  in  the  garden  path. 

"Is  he  not?  And  so  warm-hearted.  True  as 
steel.  A  trifle  too  quick  —  but  we  lose  our 
spirit  full  soon.  I  am  going  to  make  a  confes 
sion,"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  am  superstitious. 
Sailors  are  apt  to  be.  I  do  not  know  but  the 
storm  tossed  me  here,  a  vagrant,  to  some  end. 
Could  I  remain  where  intercourse  like  this  is  pos 
sible  for  him  and  educate  my  boy !  I  may  have 
neglected  duty  in  affection.  He  sailed  with  me 


THE  MAEQUIS  OF   C  ARAB  AS.  31 

while  I  was  in  the  service.  He  can  handle  a  ship 
as  well  as  I  can  myself,  quite  as  well,  but  as  for 
books  his  mind  is  virgin  soil,  or  nearly  so."  And 
the  end  was  that  they  went  to  look  at  the  Lonely 
Beach  House  five  miles  away,  over  the  bridge, 
and  along  the  causeway  winding  round  the  head 
of  the  salt  meadows  that  stretched  far  off  beyond 
the  wood  to  lose  their  green  and  russet  tints  in 
the  sparkle  of  the  sea. 

It  was  a  stone  building,  much  the  color  of  the 
dunes  around  it ;  over  it  a  group  of  oaks  twisted 
their  boughs  in  contortions  that  told  what  gales 
had  whipped  them.  Behind  it,  redeemed  from 
almost  impassable  meadow,  lay  a  fallow  field  and 
an  old  plum  orchard.  In  front  the  water  was 
smooth,  but  on  either  side  the  half-mile-long 
reach  of  quicksands  and  shallows  frothed  the  sea 
white  in  stillest  weather. 

"  Is  it  not  dreary  ? "  said  Adelaide,  when  she 
and  Dominique  rode  there  first  together.  "  Oh,  so 
desolate  !  In  the  storms  the  surf  sends  spray  over 
the  window-glass.  It  would  be  sad  to  live  there." 

"  It  would  be  fine  ! " 

"Do  you  know  what  is  going  to   happen  if 


32  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

your  father  takes  it?  You  will  ride  over  every 
day  and  study  with  Miss  Grey.  She  knows  so 
much.  Mamma  says  she  completes  the  circle  of 
the  arts  and  sciences.  And  she  will  always  be 
with  us.  Allia  is  half  her  charge." 

Dominique  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  he 
turned  and  seized  Adelaide's  hand.  "  It  makes 
my  heart  beat ! "  cried  he.  "  We  shall  read  from 
the  same  book." 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  be  alive,"  he  said,  as  he  and 
Adelaide  strolled  in  the  lower  terraces  of  the 
gardens  on  the  hill  that  night.  "  I  never  thought 
a  week  ago,  as  Death  leaped  after  us  in  every 
surge,  that  I  should  be  here  now,  drawing  such 
sweet  breath  in  your  garden,  where  I  have  crossed 
half  the  side  of  the  world  to  be,  Adelaide.  I  shall 
call  you  so  ?  It  is  so  beautiful  a  name."  And 
the  two  young  beings  lingered  there  listening  to 
a  distant  echo,  while  the  brook  bubbled  its  sweet 
monotone,  the  flowering  terraces  shook  out  all 
their  perfumes,  and  the  moonlight  spread  floods  of 
silver  around  them,  all  unthinking  that  they  stood 
no  longer  on  the  outside,  but  had  entered  into  the 
great  mysteries  of  life. 


THE   MARQUIS  OF   CARABAS.  33 


V. 


DOMINIQUE'S  attendance  upon  Miss  Grey  was  ex 
emplary,  but  it  by  no  means  lightened  that  lady's 
labors.  Whatever  gifts  came  by  nature  Domi 
nique  could  make  th  most  of  but  was  the  thing 
to  be  conquered  by  trouble,  he  measured  it  and  the 
consequence  of  its  absence,  and  made  up  his  mind 
to  do  without  it.  He  held  his  side  of  the  book 
properly,  it  is  true,  but  he  looked  at  Adelaide. 
When  Miss  Grey  urged  his  father's  desire,  he 
would  bend  over  the  page  with  determination, 
puzzle  himself  into  a  frantic  perplexity,  then  the 
volume  would  spin  through  the  air,  and  he  would 
stalk  from  the  room  and  be  seen  no  more  that 
day,  while  his  penitence  on  the  morrow  was  only 
exceeded  by  his  ignorance.  At  other  times,  when 
Adelaide  was  at  the  point  of  tears  over  the  gloom 
of  her  problem,  Dominique  would  dart  to  the  cen 
tral  pang,  make  all  as  clear  as  light,  and  Ade 
laide's  recitation  would  be  perfect  while  his  was 

3 


34  THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

only  laughing  uncertainty.  "  Why  should  I  learn 
how  to  demonstrate  that  Kectilineal  figures  which 
are  similar  to  the  same  rectilineal  figure  are  also 
similar  to  one  another  ? "  he  would  say.  "  It 
stands  to  reason  that  they  are.  And  what  earthly 
purpose  does  it  help  for  me  to  prove  that  Similar 
solid  parallelepipeds  are  to  one  another  in  the 
triplicate  ratio  of  their  homologous  sides  ?  And 
as  for  the  Series  of  prisms  of  the  same  altitude 
that  may  be  circumscribed  about  any  pyramid 
such  that  the  sum  of  the  prisms  shall  exceed  the 
pyramid  by  a  solid  less  than  any  given  solid  —  I 
wish  I  knew  the  man  that  invented  that  precious 
stuff;  I'd  make  a  prism  of  him.  At  any  rate,  if 
he  was  n't  the  rest  of  it,  he  should  be  black  and 
blue ! "  Then,  in  the  midst  of  lessons,  he  would 
troll  some  catch  boasting  precisely  opposite  ac 
complishments,  and  Miss  Grey  in  despair  would 
recommend  Captain  Dacre  to  apply  his  boy  to 
anything  but  books. 

But  Captain  Dacre  was  inexorable.  He  had 
found  books  a  refuge  when  he  forsook  active  life. 
If  Dominique  could  not  learn  everything  between 
their  covers,  he  should  know  where  to  go  for  what 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  35 

he  might  want  in  them  by  and  by.  He  spent 
half  his  own  time  poring  over  books,  or  in  his 
little  laboratory,  gathering  what  he  could,  to  give 
back  to  Dominique  in  any  way  in  which  he  could 
assimilate  it.  And  it  was  no  new  effort ;  ever  since 
his  aroused  heart  had  changed  his  whole  manner 
of  life,  he  had  had  the  single  hope  that  his  con 
tact  might  not  be  worse  for  the  boy  than  death  by 
drowning  would  have  been  at  first.  Once  in  every 
week,  too,  he  spent  a  day  and  night  at  the  cottage, 
giving  some  instruction  in  navigation,  and,  if  the 
stars  shone,  a  sailor's  lecture  in  astronomy,  where 
alone  he  was  better  posted  than  the  encyclopedic 
Miss  Grey.  The  superintendence  received  from 
Gascoygne,  in  the  latter's  vacations,  however,  was 
a  relief  to  the  Captain,  who  feared  to  place  Domi 
nique  among  men,  suffering  new  pain  in  the 
thought  that,  if  his  treatment  were  hurtful,  even 
that  was  a  consequence  of  his  own  career,  and 
Dominique  might  in  fact  be  ruined  because  Cap 
tain  Dacre  had  been.  And  then  he  subjected  the 
boy  to  cautious  probing,  to  discover  if  he  had  any 
of  that  strength  by  which,  if  ruin  came,  he*  could 
climb  out  of  it  on  God's  hand. 


36  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS. 

But  Dominique  knew  nothing  of  all  these 
thoughts  and  fears.  He  was  happy;  that  was 
enough.  He  was  punctual  at  the  cottage  on  the 
hill,  sometimes  sailing  across  from  breaker  to 
breaker,  sometimes  rising  at  dawn  and  walking 
the  five  miles,  his  white  face  flushed  with  pleasure, 
and  coming  in  laden  with  wild  treasures,  —  treas 
ures  over  which  old  John,  the  gardener,  who,  like 
all  the  rest  of  Coastcliff,  had  followed  the  sea  in 
his  youth,  and  although  apt  to  his  business  now, 
was,  and  always  would  be,  strange  to  the  wild- 
wood,  bent  his  broad  back  with  satisfaction,  study-- 
ing  their  novelty  with  many  a  self-contained 
chuckle,  while  wiling  Dominique  into  relations  of 
his  boyish  life,  before  the  wreck  of  the  packet-ship. 

They  had  grown  so  used  to  Dominique  at  the 
cottage  now,  his  joyous  vagaries,  his  sullen  moods, 
his  sunshiny  penitences,  that  they  would  as  easily 
have  known  how  to  do  without  one  of  themselves 
as  without  him.  He  made  a  variety  in  their 
feminine  lives,  to  which,  in  Gascoygne's  absences, 
old  John  the  gardener  and  Thomas  the  coachman 
had  never  been  equal.  He  had  no  lack  of  slight 
Social  graces  on  occasion,  remnants  of  his  gay  life 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  37 

at  springs  and  bathing-places ,  and  Mrs.  Stuart  had 
been  even  heard  to  say,  that  if  she  had  had  a  son  she 
should  have  wished  him  exactly  like  Dominique. 
He  was  very  gentle  after  that  remark,  but  perhaps 
could  not  help  taking  Adelaide  out  in  his  boat  and 
rewarding  the  mother,  who  could  see  them  with 
the  glass,  by  tacking  to  and  fro  on  the  edge  of  the 
breaker  till  she  was  cold  with  fear,  and  had  to 
warm  herself  with  a  fever  of  letter-writing  con 
cerning  the  Confederated  Charities,  in  which  Ade 
laide  became  but  one  of  a  host  of  children  and 
cares. 

When  the  winter  came,  the  boat  was  discon 
tinued  in  favor  of  a  donkey  over  the  road,  on 
which  Dominique  was  often  the  first  to  break  the 
drift,  but  where  the  wind  driving  across  the 
meadows  as  often  had  blown  a  way  clear  for  him. 
The  snow  was  always  a  delight.  He  had  a  team 
at  the  door,  whenever  allowed,  to  take  some 
one  fleeting  across  country  to  fantasias  of  bell 
music.  "  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  my  heart  were 
swept  and  garnished,"  he  exclaimed  to  Adelaide. 
'""  The  whole  earth  is  so  Clean  it  looks  spiritualized. 
Now  I  understand  what  my  father  means.  It  is 


38  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

so  white  you  might  see  its  wings."  Sleighing 
done,  he  mounted  his  donkey  and  plodded  home 
over  the  bridge  and  the  long  causeway  with  its 
dark  meadows  ribboned  in  crystal,  and  then  out 
of  the  keen  air  into  the  shelter  of  the  wood.  He 
always  delayed  a  little  there.  There  was  a  pine 
feathering  into  the  intense  blue  overhead;  there 
was  a  huge  hemlock  shaking  down  layers  of  snow 
from  its  bent  shadow  ;  there  were  the  seed  vessels 
of  wiry  weeds  and  the  red-berried  wayside  stems 
rising  through  the  crust,  —  the  crust  in  whose 
hollows  there  were  nothing  less  than  copperas 
crystals  for  color,  and  there  was  a  sort  of  hush 
through  all  the  place.  Or  sometimes  the  sky  was 
white  and  the  snow  was  falling  through  the  wood 
softly  and  hesitatingly,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
could  lie  down  and  let  the  gentle  flakes  cover  him. 
When  he  rode  out  of  the  wood  into  the  sea  wind 
that  scattered  about  the  beach  the  icy  fringes  of 
the  surf,  this  tranquil  spell  broke.  He  urged 
forward,  he  sang  to  drown  the  resounding  wave ; 
he  felt,  as  he  withstood  the  wind,  a  victor  over  the 
elements.  Then  the  windows  of  the  dining-room 
opened  on  him,  and  the  Captain,  always  watching 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  C  ARAB  AS.  39 

for  him  there,  saw  him  flying  onward,  his  dark 
hair  blown  back,  his  cheeks  ruddy  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  felt  beforehand  the  embrace  that  never 
was  forgotten,  and  the  long  evening  in  which  the 
boy  would  tell  him  all  his  day,  and  he  in  turn 
would  rehearse  his  fancies  in  the  firelight. 

As  they  watched  the  blue  flames  flickering  up 
the  flue,  Dominique,  wondering  about  things,  spent 
many  a  speculation  over  fire.  "  I  don't  know 
where  it  comes  from,"  once  he  said.  "Look  at 
that  fork  leap  from  the  black  lump.  Where  was 
it  before  ?  Where  will  it  be  presently  ?  It  is 
like  our  life,  father.  Sometimes  I  think  it  was 
the  sunshine  shut  up  in  the  earth  when  coal  was 
made.  I  should  like  to  have  been  born  before 
God  finished  the  earth.  What  if  we  could  see 
him  make  a  star  ! " 

"  It  is  clear  to  me  as  though  I  did,"  his  father 
said.  "For  had  I  seen  chaos  divide,  should  I 
have  been  the  wiser,  —  have  known  where  matter 
came  from  and  what  spirit  was  ?  I  've  been 
thinking  to-day,"  said  the  Captain,  "of  an  old 
belief,  I  Ve  heard,  that  matter  is  eternal  as  spirit, 
and  of  the  fight  between  them.  Matter  seems  to 


40  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

me  in  perfect  order  wherever  it  is  pure  matter,  in 
stars  and  flowers,  say  ;  and  in  man  alone,  where 
matter  is  united  with  spirit,  is  there  any  clash. 
So  that  in  this  warfare  of  God  and  matter,  this 
endeavor  to  reduce  matter  to  the  subjection  of 
spirit,  man  is  the  battle-ground.  And  then  the 
thought  comes  to  me,  Dominique,  that  if  every 
seeker  who  searches  a  mystery,  every  mechanic 
who  spans  space,  works  to  God's  aid  in  the  rough, 
then  they  who  work  in  their  own  portion,  reduce 
their  own  bodies  to  obedience,  are  as  much  nearer 
to  his  purpose  as  if  they  were  fighting  by  his  side. 
Eh,  Dominique  ?  " 

"  That  we  sha'n't  know,"  replied  his  son,  stirring 
the  fire.  "  But  we  might  know  just  how  the  world 
was  made ;  how  coal,  how  diamonds,  came  about ; 
where  clouds  learned  colors ;  what  we  are  here  at 
aU  for." 

"  I  please  myself  puzzling  about  it,  and  I  think, 
—  do  you  want  to  hear  what  I  think  ?  Well,  then, 
what  if,  eternities  ago,  it  came  into  God's  heart 
to  make  man,  —  to  be  loved,  to  see  the  beauty  of 
the  universe,  to  share  the  joy  of  being  ?  What 
ever  the  reason,  here  was  the  chance  to  bring 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAEABAS.  41 

matter  into  subjection,  while  the  Lord  was  to 
strike  sparks  off  from  his  fulness,  as  one  might 
say,  and  work  them  through  this  other  element  that 
we  call  matter.  And  so,  before  man  should  come, 
there  were  countless  centuries  to  make  the  star 
on  which  he  was  to  live,  to  mould  it,  to  sun  it. 
As  for  man  himself,  how,  just  with  lying  there, 
resting  in  God's  thought,  a  cherished  expectation 
wrapped  in  the  eternal  Father's  heart,  his  pos 
sibilities  must  have  increased  in  comeliness,  must 
have  grown  sanctified !  I  hope  it 's  not  as  if  I 
were  burrowing  behind  unspoken  words."  And 
the  Captain  crossed  himself,  with  an  old  habit 
that  he  had,  —  a  sense  of  un  worthiness  following 
him  through  all  his  best  endeavor. 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Dominique,  who  liked  this 
lesson  better  than  his  books,  and  found  it  less 
troublesome. 

"Well,"  said  the  Captain.  "Look  now  at  the 
lace-work  of  muscles  on  your  hand.  But  trifles  ! 
Dream,  then,  of  the  thinking  needed  to  arrange 
the  whole  frame  with  its  perpetual  machinery,  its 
beauty,  its  strength,  to  make  it  as  fair  to  see  as 
blest  to  be." 


42  THE  MAKQUIS  OF   CARABAS. 

"Perhaps  it  wasn't  done  by  thinking,"  said 
Dominique. 

"  Very  likely.  Where  was  the  need  of  thinking  ? 
Could  there  be  perplexity  or  confusion  in  the  mind 
of  Him  whose  first  essence  was  order  ?  It  was  all 
a  gentle  sequence.  There  are  those  that,  looking 
on  the  huge  fossils,  say  practice  betters.  To  my 
seeing,  in  the  clumsiest  foot  of  the  most  prodigious 
of  them  all  there 's  the  full  design  of  the  perfect 
foot  at  last,  —  only  life  was  adapted  to  its  condi 
tions,  a  honey-bee's  foot  not  wasted  on  the  creature 
that  wallowed  in  mire.  I  love  to  think  of  that 
mysterious  time  when  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  on 
the  face  of  the  waters,  Dominique,  before  those 
wondrous  six  days  when  he  stripped  off  veil  after 
veil,  and  brought  out,  fiat  after  fiat,  the  force  of 
his  completed  work,"  said  the  Captain,  reconciling 
matters  in  his  own  way. 

"  It  is  like  one  of  the  Talmud  legends  that  Miss 
Grey  tells  us." 

"But  that's  apart,"  said  the  Captain.  "You 
understand,  Dominique,  that,  it  being  best  to  make 
the  earth  for  man,  it  was  to  be  made  to  develop 
the  good  in  him ;  and  who  has  found  out  better  than 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  43 

yourself  this  summer  that  that  is  done  by  the  ex 
ercise  of  our  faculties  ?  So  in  the  earth  there  must 
be  this  and  that,  but  most  of  all  coal,  coal  to 
get  out,  more  precious  than  gold,  and  without 
which  even  the  iron  must  rest  in  its  bed.  So," 
continued  the  Captain, "  there  may  have  been  a  time 
when  the  shining  water- world  wore  only  a  girdle 
of  island  gems,  then  a  time  when  a  belt  of  forests 
circled  the  earth,  and  down  in  the  valleys  our  des 
tined  fuel,  —  for  you  and  I,  Dominique,  were  as 
much  in  that  first  idea  of  man  as  Caesar,  —  those 
forests  lifted  their  green  heads  into  the  warm  wind 
less  weather,  into  the  white  fog  that  kept  the  sun's 
hot  rays  diffused  and  brooding,  sucking  in  carbon 
from  the  heavy  air,  giant  stems  growing  in  rankest 
swamps  and  crowned  with  clouds  of  shining  leaves, 
leaves  pencilled  as  if  with  graver's  tools  in  the 
mine  to-day.  Then  how  to  store  this  fuel  ?  How 
but  to  let  the  waters  in  over  it,  either  through  slow 
sinking  of  the  marshy  rafts,  or  by. rending  crusts 
and  disturbing  seas  that  rush  to  find  their  level, 
and  when  drawn  off  leave  above  the  forest  tops 
fresh  soil  for  new  growth,  till,  layer  laid  on  layer, 
the  rocks  heave  in  convulsion  above  it  all,  press  it 


44  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

close  and  its  exhalations  with  it,  then  let  the  earth 
drive  her  fires  through  it  till  the  work  is  done  ?" 

"  And  then  ? "  urged  Dominique. 

"  Why  then,  the  earth  being  one  treasure-house 
inside,  other  ages  draped  it  with  greensward,  tented 
it  with  blue  sky,  and  breathing  beings  came  to 
walk  upon  it." 

"Yes,  man  came  in  with  the  roses,"  Adelaide 
says. 

"  The  man  the  Maker  planned  for  and  wrought 
for.  And  all  this  only  leads  to  one  thought.  In 
the  beginning  there  were  plants,  simple  plants, 
—  it  was  only  when  their,  decay  furnished  the 
material  that  plants  with  flowers  came.  When  I 
see  how  the  white  violet  that  Adelaide  loves  is 
streaked  with  purple  lines  always  the  same,  when 
I  catch  the  snowflakes  on  my  sleeve,  when  the 
speaker  in  the  lecture-desk  tells  me  this  chalk  is 
made  of  shells  too  tiny  for  the  seeing  and  each  as 
perfect  as  the  stars  in  heaven,  why  then  I  see  that 
the  Lord  who  made  it  must  love  beauty,  his  least 
thought  beauty  itself.  And  what  is  beauty  but  fit 
ness,  and  how  much  of  that  has  man  ?  And  I  say 
man  is  not  yet  complete ;  part  of  the  work 's  to  do, 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  45 

himself  to  do  it ;  and  then  I  have  this  fancy,  — 
this.  Do  you  mind,  Dominique,  there  are  folks 
believe  in  the  millennium,  when  God  reigns  upon 
the  earth  a  thousand  years ;  man  himself  is  to  be 
made  anew,  —  do  you  think  the  earth  must  not 
be  new  as  well  ?  There  shall  be,  it  says,  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth.  But  how  's  this  earth 
that  was  made  so  well, — how  's  this  earth  to  gain  a 
grace  ?  1 11  tell  you.  This  earth  was  of  the  crude 
matter  ;  this  man  was  of  the  crude  matter.  Man 
dies  ;  his  body  turns  to  dust.  Do  you  think  the 
dust  is  no  fouler  that  has  been  the  keeping  of  a 
foul  spirit  ?  And  do  you  think  the  dust  that  has 
had  a  clean  soul  in  it,  that  has  wrought  with  it  for 
purification,  and  has  been  penetrated  with  truth 
and  trust  and  sacrifice,  won't  keep  a  little  of  such 
contact  in  it,  won't  be  heroic  dust  ?  Ah,  Domi 
nique,  when  man,  made  from  dust  that  meant  noth 
ing,  returns  to  a  dust  that  means  everything,  that 
means  virtue  and  faith  and  love,  when  the  whole 
round  earth  is  made  only  of  mouldering  hero-dust, 
there  '11  be  a  soil  fit  for  the  Lord  and  his  saints  to 
walk  on,  and  matter  will  have  gone  under  in  the 
fight!" 


46  THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

By  this  time,  perhaps  Dominique  was  asleep; 
and  if  the  silence  woke  him,  there  was  a  game  of 
draughts,  or  a  descent  into  the  little  laboratory, 
where  they  went  through  the  Captain's  last  chem 
ical  experiments,  after  which  nothing  satisfied 
Dominique,  while  he  himself  made  ice  burn  and 
blanched  red  roses  white,  but  to  bring  Adelaide 
and  Allia  over  to  the  Lonely  Beach  for  delighted 
spectators  of  his  magic. 

Every  night  before  sleep  these  two  companions 
went  the  round  of  the  traps  set  in  the  plum- 
orchard.  Once  they  found  a  little  red  fox  shivering 
there,  with  his  bushy  tail  frozen  into  the  snow ;  at 
another  time  a  white  arctic  owl  —  a  puff  of  feathers 
—  opened  his  eyes  like  yellow  flames  upon  them. 
By  and  by  the  wild  geese,  flying  low,  clanged  their 
music  overhead  as  Dominique  took  his  last  look 
at  Orion  and  the  night ;  and  then  Spring,  with  her 
breath-betraying  violets,  was  close  at  hand.  It 
was  a  happy,  innocent  boyhood.  And  when  Cap 
tain  Dacre  looked  at  Dominique's  radiant  smile, 
he  wondered  if  much  might  not  be  counterbal 
anced  by  his  gift  of  such  happiness  and  innocence 
to  a  life  snatched  out  of  storm. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAKABAS.  47 


VI. 


THREE  springs  had  painted  the  soft  blue  and 
rosy  reaches  of  the  sea  before  the  door,  had  echoed 
its  resounding  song,  as  Dominique's  sail  took  the 
wet  winds  of  the  outer  depths,  or  hung  loosely 
when  the  boat  slipped  up  between  the  breakers  to 
the  Lonely  Beach,  Adelaide  still  his  most  frequent 
companion  on  the  water. 

One  sunset  he  had  kept  her  out  too  long ;  the 
flushing  heavens  behind  them,  the  moon  swim 
ming  up  the  hollow  of  the  sky,  the  murmur  of  the 
waters  of  far  horizons  lifting  around  them  its 
vast  music,  the  breath  of  the  salt  seas  blowing' 
freshly  about  their  temples,  —  all  had  tempted  them 
to  linger  for  yet  another  tack,  as  the  boat  went 
about  and  the  sail  shot  out  on  the  running,  rope 
and  filled  like  a  cloud,  to  make  the  eastern  shadow 
beyond  that  lane  of  glory  in  the  moon-swale. 
But  now  they  knew  Gascoygne  must  be  waiting 
on  the  shingle  to  take  Adelaide  up  the  hill.  "  I 


48         THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

think,"  said  Dominique,  "  I  must  have  some  of  the 
old  sea/-people's  blood  in  my  veins ;  hardly  your 
vikings,  maybe  those  Portuguese  sailors  who  first 
slipped  out  of  sight  of  shore.  There  is  no  pleas 
ure  like  sailing.  When  you  ride,  you  master  a 
horse ;  but  when  you  sail,  you  master  the  great 
sea  itself,  you  make  the  winds  your  slaves.  And 
just  to  go  slipping  from  crest  to  crest,  soaring  and 
sinking,  —  it  is  like  flying  between  the  stars ! 
Should  you  like  to  live  upon  it  ?  How  great,  how 
glorious  that  life  will  be  some  time,  Adelaide,  — 
some  time  when  we  can  always  be  together ;  when 
I  never  need  bring  you  back  to  shore  ! " 

Then  he  left  her  and  Gascoygne  picking  their 
way  over  the  wet  stones  in  the  moonlight,  —  Gas 
coygne,  who  had  some  shadow  of  trouble  in  his 
face,  and  would  not  put  an  arm  about  her  for  help, 
—  and  his  boat  went  dipping  across  the  bay,  and 
slid  at  last  up  the  long  shallow  of  the  Lonely 
Beach. 

How  joyous  and  unsullied  he  was  !  He  went 
up  towards  the  house  slowly.  The  shadow  at  the 
rusty  iron  gate  he  hardly  saw  till  he  was  there. 
It  was  the  Captain,  leaning  there  with  his  head 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  49 

between   his   hands.      Dominique   stole   an    arm 
round  his  shoulder. 

"  Is  that  you,  Dominique  ? "  said  his  father  pres 
ently.  "  I  was  thinking  of  you.  Gascoygne  tells 
me  to-morrow  is  the  last  examination  for  entrance 
to  your  classes.  You  are  to  go  up  with  him. 
There  is  your  world  that  you  long  for." 

Dominique  heard  him  with  a  throb.  The  world 
that  was  enchantment,  —  yet  Adelaide  to  leave, 
and  this  lovely  life. 

"  All  our  pleasure  here  is  over,"  said  the  other 
sadly.  -The  tone  smote  Dominique.  He  drew 
his  arm  more  closely  round  his  father's  neck,  and 
nestled  his  cheek  to  his  in  the  outgrown  boyish 
way. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  care  to  go,"  he  said. 

"It  is  settled,"  answered  the  Captain.  "All 
settled.  I  will  drive  you  over  in  the  morning,  — 
one  more  long  hour  to  ourselves.  Leave  me  now, 
Dominique;  it  is  chilly,  and  you  are  wet."  And 
as  Dominique  obeyed,  the  man's  head  dropped  into 
his  hands  again,  and  he  was  murmuring  to  him 
self.  "  My  sin  has  found  me  out,"  he  said.  "  My 
sin  has  found  me  out ! " 

4 


50         THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

But  Dominique  ran  in  lightly,  and  only  paused 
to  glance  into  the  old  dining-room  and  see  in  what 
state  the  table  lay.  There  was  a  low  fire  in  the 
grate,  two  or  three  embers  of  driftwood  sending 
now  and  then  a  phantom  of  flame  up  the  chimney. 
A  man  sat  beside  it,  resting  his  elbows  on  his  arm 
chair,  and  tipping  his  fingers  together  before  him 
in  the  tuneful  measure  of  some  pleasant  thought. 
He  looked  up  suddenly  with  a  pair  of  piercing 
eyes  and  a  smooth  smile  that,  instead  of  spreading 
over  his  face  as  smiles  do,  like  sunshine,  cut  into 
it  like  a  knife. 

"  Aha  !  "  said  he.  "  And  who  may  this  be  ? 
Dominique  ?  Come  here  and  let  me  have  a  look 
at  you.  The  Captain  did  n't  tell  you  I  was  here, 
I  '11  dare  swear  !  You  may  have  heard  him  speak 
of  me,  my  lad.  My  name  is  Ladeuce." 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.         51 


VII. 

WHEN  Captain  Dacre  flung  his  servant  the 
reins  and  went  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
next  day,  he  was  greeted  by  his  old  Lieutenant 
from  the  gallery.  "A  sightly  place  you  have," 
said  Ladeuce,  "  though  that 's  a  bad  harbor,  with 
those  breakers.  However,  you  Ve  no  use  for  that 
any  longer.  But  you  're  like  all  the  rest  of  us  old 
sea-dogs,  and  can't  do  without  the  water.  Most 
sailors  ashore,  I  find,  must  have  their  patch  of 
ground,"  he  continued,  as  the  Captain  still  made 
him  no  reply.  "  You  take  yours  out  in  that  old 
plum  orchard,  —  looks  as  if  our  friend  Robert 
might  have  buried  plunder  there.  You're  not 
troubled  with  too  much  company  here.  I  don't 
know  that  I  ever  saw  a  more  capital  place  for  a 
retired  pirate  —  " 

If  Ladeuce  had  not  retreated  a  step  he  would 
have  had  the  word  knocked  down  his  throat. 


52  THE   MARQUIS    OF   C  ARAB  AS. 

"  You  object  to  the  phrase  ? "  he  said  coolly, 
recovering  himself.  "  But  I  believe  it  is  piracy 
before  the  law.  However,  we  must  regard  appear 
ances.  I  used  to  remember  that  when  I  saw  you 
at  Congress  Hall  with  Dominique,  and  thought 
of  those  barracoons  on  the  African  coast.  You 
didn't  see  me.  I  was  there  but  briefly — just  to 
keep  you  in  sight." 

"  Ladeuce,  what  do  you  want  with  me  ? "  said 
the  Captain. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Ladeuce,  biting  off 
the  end  of  a  fresh  cigar,  "  that  I  want  anything 
of  you  in  this  mood.  When  you  remember  what 
you  are,  I  may  give  you  a  point  in  the  law.  But 
do  not  disturb  yourself.  I  am  in  no  hurry." 
And  leaning  over  towards  the  Captain  he  added, 
"  I  have  come  to  stay." 

"  You  have  come  —  That  is  impossible  ! "  cried 
the  other. 

"  Not  at  all,  since  you  see  me  here,"  said  the 
Lieutenant.  "  And  here  I  mean  to  stay  while  it 
suits  me.  I  shall  make  forays  into  the  neigh 
borhood  of  towns  and  cities.  I  have  some  ven 
tures  yet  upon  the  sea.  I  may  take  a  trip  or  so 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  53 

now  and  then.  But  what  more  natural  than  that 
I  should  tie  up  with  my  old  Captain  ?  I  have 
come  to  help  you,  though  it  is  late  in  the  day," 
said  Ladeuce,  with  a  laugh  that  showed  all  his 
white  teeth,  —  "I  have  come  to  help  you  bring  up 
Dominique." 

The  Captain  shuddered  in  spite  of  the  warm 
noon.  "  Ladeuce,"  he  said  presently,  "  you  and  I 
have  nothing  in  common  —  " 

"  Except  our  memories,"  laughed  Ladeuce  again. 

"When  we  parted,  the  terms  were  generous 
enough  for  you  to  keej)  your  word  and  leave  me 
unmolested." 

"  Attractions,"  said  Ladeuce,  "  sometimes  over 
ride  promises." 

"  I  desired  then,"  said  the  Captain  more  quietly, 
"  only  to  escape  from  what  might  injure  or  dis 
grace  the  boy.  Afterward,  if  fire  would  have 
purified  me,  I  should  be  clean  to-day,  for  I  lived 
in  the  torments  of  hell-fire  with  my  remem 
brances." 

"  I  always  thought  you  were  a  tender-foot, 
Captain." 

"  Here  in  this  haven,"  continued  the  Captain, 


54  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

"  I  have  found  peace  and  rest.  What  will  you 
have  and  begone  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Ladeuce  placidly.  "  I  have  told 
you  I  have  come  to  stay." 

"  And  I  have  told  you  it  cannot  be." 

"  It  is.  I  am  here.  You  do  not  want  the  'fiasco 
of  turning  me  out  ?  You  want  no  exposure  ? 
Caramba!  I  am  an  old  friend.  I  conie  and  I 
go.  I  shall,  perhaps,  hinder  you  from  making  a 
milksop  of  Dominique.  Can  he  play  ?  Can  he 
put  on  the  gloves  ?  Can  he  fence  ?  Has  he  any 
of  the  arts  of  the  Spanish  gentleman?  Perhaps 
he  will  take  a  run  with  me  on  the  Nightbird  —  " 

"The  NigUUrd!" 

"  The  same.  Did  you  think  she  had  laid  her 
bones  on  the  reefs  ?  Not  at  all.  She  carries  live 
cargoes  into  the  islands  for  me  yet,  and  will  this 
many  a  day  —  " 

"  Not  she  !  She  shall  never  carry  another !  I 
gave  you  no  deed  of  her.  She  is  mine.  I  thought 
she  had  gone  to  pieces  a  dozen  years  ago.  You 
shall  bring  her  up  and  burn  her  in  the  offing  here, 
or  by  heaven,"  cried  Captain  Dacre,  "  I  will  hang 
you  at  her  yard-arm  yet !  " 


THE  MARQUIS  OF   CARABAS.  55 

"Softly,  softly,  my  Captain,"  said  Ladeuce. 
"  If  we  talk  of  ropes'  ends  there  are  always  two 
ends,  you  know.  And  one  of  us  will  not  be  exe 
cuting  that  dance  on  nothing  without  the  other. 
The  Niglitbird  is  yours,  to  be  sure.  I  am  ready 
to  yield  you  account  any  day.  And  if  you  don't 
want  this  blood-money,  as  I  heard  you  call  it, 
will  you  then  tell  me  on  what  else  you  are  living 
now  ?  What  bought  this  place  ?  What  furnishes 
your  table  ?  What  sends  Dominique  on  his  costly 
errand  now  ? " 

"It  is  true,"  said  Captain  Dacre,  white  as 
ashes. 

"  Then  let  us  stop  sentimental  humbug,  if  you 
please  ;  and  if  you  don't,"  said  Ladeuce.  "  When 
you  are  ready  to  throw  up  your  fortune  and  ship 
before  the  mast,  I  may  believe  you  have  seen  the 
error  of  your  ways.  Till  you  are,  no  reproaches 
concerning  mine.  You  have  a  fancy  to  be  a  fine 
gentleman,  —  you  .don't  make  much  of  a  fist  at  it. 
I,  also,  have  taken  great  pains  with  myself;  you 
will  not  be  ashamed  of  me.  For  the  rest,  do  you 
forget  our  old  proverb,  — -  Quien  tien  tienda,  que 
atienda?  He  that  has  a  shop  let  him  keep  it. 


56  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

The  Niglifbird  will  run  her  regular  trips,  sometimes 
from  the  Guinea  coast  to  the  Windward  Islands, 
and  sometimes,  when  the  barracoons  are  not  filled, 
with  a  conspicuously  innocent  lading  of  palm  oil 
and  gums  and  ivory,  and  sometimes  with  one, 
not  quite  so  innocent,  of  French  brandies,  entered 
in  the  dark  up  among  these  ports.  She 's  not  a 
hundred  miles  away  from  us,  as  the  crow  flies,  now. 
As  for  me,  I  am  your  friend,  a  Southern  gentleman 
with  plantations  in  Central  America.  Personally, 
I  have  my  reasons  for  putting  up  with  you  off  and 
on  as  I  choose.  I  always  meant  tq.  It 's  enough 
for  you  to  know,  and  say,  that  I  find  myself  in 
need  of  a  physician,  and  fancy  yours.  If  you  con 
duct  yourself  so  that  any  think  me  unwelcome  it 
is  all  up  with  you.  And  when  you  see  your  Night- 
bird  blazing  out  there  in  the  stream,  you  may 
know  it's  all  up  with  me.  Then,  and  not  till  then. 
I  give  you  till  to-morrow  to  think  of  it." 

"  I  do  not  need  it,"  said  Captain  Dacre,  corning 
back  from  where  he  had  stood  facing  sea  and  sky 
as  if  searching  the  horizon  for  help.  "  You  have 
me  in  your  power.  But,  Ladeuce,  I  was  your 
friend  in  the  old  time  — " 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  57 

"Ah,  that's  the  way  I  like  to  have  you  talk, 
my  Captain !  We  were  good  friends  in  the  old 
time  when  we  knew  danger  together !  You  would 
say  —  " 

"About  Dominique.  Plainly,  it  would  kill 
me  —  I  don't  know  but  it  would  kill  him  —  to 
find  —  " 

"  That  you  made  your  money  as  a  kidnapper 
and  slaver  in  the  African  and  West  Indian  waters. 
Well,  give  yourself  no  concern.  I  make  no  prom 
ises.  No  digo  nada.  But  I  hold  Dominique  as 
much  my  charge  as  yours.  He' s  a  fine-looking  lad. 
Have  you  ever  had  a  hint  as  to  who  he  is  ? " 

"  He  is  Dominique  Dacre  ! "  thundered  the  Cap 
tain,  forgetting  all  the  rest  in  this  new  face  of  the 
foe.  "  He  is  that,  and  nothing  else." 

Ladeuce  gave  a  long  whistle.  "Well,  let  us 
drink  his  health,  as  we  did  in  the  little  cabin  a 
dozen  and  a  half  years  ago  and  more,  when  he 
became  that.  What !  No  liquors  in  the  house  ? 
Well,  well,  we  must  reform  all  that." 

The  sunshine  was  never  brighter  than  it  lay  that 
day  glittering  on  the  bosses  of  the  great  sapphire 
shield  with  which  the  sea  opposed  the  sky ;  but  to 


58  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

Captain   Dacre,   as   be   walked   away,  the   world 
was  wrapped  in  impenetrable  gloom. 

He  had  taken  his  boy  from  sea  and  storm  only 
that  Lacleuce  might  ruin  him. 

Look  which  way  he  would,  it  was  dark.  What 
if  he  gave  up  everything,  —  his  house  and  books, 
his  stocks  and  shares,  —  Dominique  must  give  up 
his  education  as  well  then.  And  if  he  abandoned 
study,  was  it  likely  he  would  not  drift  to  leeward 
in  all  things  ?  And  if  he  gave  up  fortune,  learn 
ing,  and  the  rest,  would  he  not  also  have  to  give 
up  Adelaide  ?  And  that  Dominique  should  one 
day  marry  Adelaide  had  been  the  Captain's  waking 
dream. 

And  what  if  he  defied  Ladeuce  ?  The  man  had 
but  to  denounce  him.  Well,  neither  imprisonment 
nor  death  was  much  to  him,  —  there  were  those 
who  would  walk  in  prison  with  him  as  they  had 
with  Peter  and  Paul.  But  could  he  break  the 
boy's  heart  ?  Just  entering  life,  full  of  courage 
and  hope  and  pride,  surrounded  by  friends,  should 
he  suffer  this  disgrace  ?  He  himself  could  endure 
his  old  confederate's  presence  that  was  now  poi 
sonous  to  him,  the  sword  of  disclosure  hanging 


JE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  59 

.,  even  the  keeping  of  the  ill-gotten 
jough  every  piece  he  spent  should  sear 
^ul,  as  it  had   long  done  ;  but  Dominique's 
.ie  and  career  should  not  be  marred.     And  for 
his  penalty,  —  although  he  could  meet  scorn,  al 
though  he  could  meet  death,  could  he  meet  the 
boy's  clear  eyes  when  he  should  know  his  past  ? 
No !     If  it  came  to  that,  God  must  let  him  die, 
—  the  punishment  would  be  more  than  he  could 
bear. 

It  was  no  wonder  the  world  looked  dark  to  the 
man.     It  lay  in  the  shadow  of  his  evil  deeds. 


60         THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 


VIII. 

IT  was  a  week  or  two  after  this  that  Adelaide, 
driving  to  the  Lonely  Beach,  left  the  carriage,  as 
she  often  did,  to  gather  an  armful  of  the  bindweed 
on  her  way,  and  the  others  drove  on,  while  Cap 
tain  Dacre  presently  came  down  to  meet  her. 

"  Now  where  have  you  kept  yourself  ? "  she 
cried  in  her  sweet,  familiar  way.  "  Have  you 
been  plunged  in  grief  for  Dominique's  loss  ?  We 
thought  perhaps  you  had  gone  with  him,  when 
you  did  not  come  on  Wednesday.  Ah,"  as  she 
caught  sight  of  Ladeuce  seating  the  others  on  the 
gallery,  "you  have  a  friend  with  you.  I  am  so 
glad  you  have  a  friend  ! "  And  then  she  went  up 
with  the  Captain  through  the  old  plum  orchard. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "  that  you  are  too 
grave  about  Dominique." 

"  And  to  me,"  he  answered  her,  "  that  you  are 
too  gay." 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I   miss   him  so !     But  it  is 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  61 

best  he  should  be  gone,  you  know,"  she  added, 
with  her  transforming  smile.  "  He  will  return  so 
much  richer  than  he  went." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  ought  not  to  care.  He  has  life  be 
fore  him,  and  mine  is  behind  me.  I  am  like  one  of 
these  old  knotted  plum-trees,  —  ready  for  felling." 

"  You  are  lovely  if  you  are  like  a  plum-tree, 
with  singing  things  sheltered  in  the  boughs,  and 
sweet  fruit  dripping  honey.  Do  you  think  you 
are  like  a  plurn-tree  ? "  she  said,  with  her  arch 
laugh.  "  Let  me  tell  you,  your  plum-trees  want  to 
be  scraped.  Mamma  will  add  you  to  her  charities, 
and  send  old  John  over  to  do  it." 

"She  added  me  to  her  charities  long  ago." 

"  Speaking  of  charities,  do  you  know  Gascoygne 
has  come  home  with  his  degree  ?  Mamma  has 
infected  him.  He  is  going  to  practise  in  Coast- 
cliff.  He  does  n't  need  to  practise  at  all,  and  so 
he  will  only  take  the  poor.  I  tell  him  he  ought 
to  have  a  ruby  ring ! "  and  she  laughed  in  gay 
mischief. 

"Adelaide,"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  "if  I  had 
you  here  all  the  time  I  should  bear  Dominique's 
loss  better." 


62  THE   MARQUIS   OF   C  AH  ABAS. 

"  I  believe  you  are  making  love  to  me,"  she  said. 
And  she  took  the  old  man's  hand  and  raised  it  to 
her  lips  with  a  pretty  motion,  half  reverence,  half 
caress. 

They  came  up  through  the  broad  hall  and  out 
upon  the  gallery  where  the  others  sat,  Ladeuce 
rising  to  receive  them.  How  resplendent  she  was, 
as  she  stood  there,  with  the  light  of  the  sea  upon 
her  brow  and  its  color  in  her  eyes  !  But  it  was 
not  the  bloom  of  the  face,  the  blackness  of  the 
dropping  hair,  the  lovely  lines  and  tints  within  the 
oval,  that  made  her  charm.  It  was  something 
shining  from  the  eyes  and  from  the  smile,  as  if  the 
interior  sunlight  illumined  the  face  from  the  soul. 
Whatever  it  was,  it  was  something  antipathetic 
to  Ladeuce.  He  did  not  blench  before  it,  although 
the  fearless  gaze  in  its  first  instant  seemed  to  pene 
trate  his  disguises.  He  hated  it.  And  Adelaide, 
for  her  part,  felt  a  shuddering  repulsion  from  this 
dark  fellow  of  the  flattering  tongue.  "  What  is  he 
doing  with  the  Captain  ? "  the  half-unconscious 
repulsion  whispered.  "  What  is  he  about  Domi 
nique  for  ?  What  will  Gascoygne  say  to  him  ?  " 
while  the  icy  sweetness  of  her  manner  benumbed 
his  flatteries. 


TEE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  63 

"  The  girl  for  Dominique,  eh  ? "  was  what  La- 
deuce's  antipathy  was  just  as  quietly  suggesting. 
"My  dear,  I  shall  put  a  spoke  in  that  wheel."  And 
he  turned  to  Allia  with  a  suavity  that  little  damsel 
had  not  met  before.  "  If  I  had  known,"  said  he, 
"that  my  old  friend  was  in  such  snug  quarters 
and  visited  by  youth  and  beauty,  I  should  not 
have  stayed  so  long  away  from  him  tossing  about 
the  world." 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  one's  wanting  to  come  to 
Coastcliff  that  could  go  anywhere  else,"  answered 
Allia,  with  a  look  of  the  great  brown  eyes  that 
always  gave  you  the  impression  of  the  moon  just 
rising. 

"  All !  so  you  want  to  see  the  world  with  those 
eyes,  is  it  ?  And  what  part  the  most,  may  I 
ask  ? " 

"The  part,"  said  Allia,  "that  is  different  the 
most  from  Coastcliff.  The  people  that  are  unlike 
these." 

"  The  people  ?     The  common  —  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Allia.  "  "What  do  I  care  for 
the  common  people  ?  I  see  enough  of  them  here. 
My  cousin  tires  me  out  with  them.  I  mean  —  " 


64  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

"  The  people  that  continue  history.  Oh,  indeed. 
Then  you  would  enjoy  some  of  the  pageants  that  I 
have  seen.  A  coronation,  now  —  " 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  coronation  ? "  said  little 
Allia  breathlessly. 

"  Upon  my  word  I  think  a  circus  finer ! " 
laughed  Ladeuce,  "except  that  the  clowns  wear 
the  fine  garments  and  the  jewels  are  real." 

"They  have  such  splendid  jewels,  I  suppose, 
those  people.  Dominique  says  there  is  a  spirit  in 
jewels.  He  and  his  father  tried  to  make  them 
in  the  laboratory,  and  they  could  n't,  because  they 
had  to  leave  the  spirit  out." 

"Ah,  I  have  some  pretty  stones  I  must  show 
you  if  you  are  interested  in  such  things.  I  am 
quite  a  collector  in  a  small  way,  moonstones  and 
tourmalines  ; "  and  then,  as  he  saw  the  increasing 
sparkle  of  Allia's  glance,  "  though  why,"  he  added, 
"  one  should  speak  of  jewels  with  such  eyes  shin 
ing  on  him  — "  and  then  the  elder  ladies,  rising, 
closed  the  business  of  the  moment. 

It  was  long  before  Captain  Dacre  returned  this 
call.  Perhaps  he  never  would  have  done  so  at 
all  if  Ladeuce  had  not  declared  his  own  in  ten- 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS.         65 

tion  of  visiting  a  physician  and  taking  the  cottage 
on  the  hill  by  the  way.  Once  there,  however, 
it  was  easy  going  again,  and  he  did  not  always 
ask  the  Captain  to  go  with  him.  Gascoygne,  just 
through  with  his  studies,  did  very  well  for  a  phy 
sician,  and  gave  him  good  reason  for  his  visits. 

"  A  little  trouble  with  my  heart,"  said  Ladeuce 
lightly  to  the  Captain.  "  Well,  it  has  always  been 
a  susceptible  organ.  I  know  there 's  a  little  trouble 
with  it,  and  all  along  of  that  pretty  witch  up 
there." 

"  Adelaide ! "  cried  the  Captain. 

"  Adelaide  go  hang ! "  said  his  Lieutenant. 
"  Has  my  lady  any  smiles  ?  She  will  have  none 
of  them  for  me.  Dios  mio !  These  airs  and 
graces  make  you  laugh  when  you.  know  you  have 
one's  fate  in  your  hand.  Cierto  !  I  will  bring  the 
haughty  hussy  to  terms  !  But  the  other.  Come, 
now,  my  Captain,  where  have  you  seen  such  a 
skin  the  color  of  ivory,  such  lips  like  a  cleft 
pomegranate  ? " 

Captain  Dacre's  blood  was  running  cold.  "  La- 
deuce,"  said  he,  "  I  am  an  old  man." 

"  You  are  a  sly  dog,  that 's  what  you  are.  You 
5 


66  THE  MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS. 

are  that  old  rat  of  the  fable,  who  retired  from  the 
world  in  a  rich  Stilton  cheese.  Do  you  think  to 
have  it  all  to  yourself?  Tate!  I  have  an  eye 
for  beauty,  too,  and  I  'm  not  as  old  as  you  are. 
And  I  fancy,"  said  Ladeuce,  getting  up  and  look 
ing  himself  over  in  the  mirror,  "  that  beauty  has 
an  eye  for  me.  You  must  acknowledge,  Dacre, 
that, I'm  not  an  uncomely  sort  of  fellow.  I've 
one  face  for  shore  and  another  for  sea.  No  man- 
of-war's-man  of  all  those  accursed  British  frigates 
could  recognize  the  bearded  sailing-master  of  the 
Nighfbird  in  this  smooth  face.  And  then  I  've 
taken  a  leaf  from  your  book.  I  go  to  the  Springs 
between  trips  —  to  the  Capital.  I  study  men  and 
manners.  I  study  women.  I  wonder  what  the 
lovely  lady  in  my  arms,  whose  head  rests  on  my 
shoulder  as  we  waltz,  would  say  if  she  saw  me 
landing  my  live  cargoes  off  the  Ojo  de  Toro  reefs  ? 
Oh,  I  improve  my  time,"  as  he  still  had  no  reply. ' 
"  When  on  the  off  trip  I  'm  putting  my  brandies 
and  cordials  aboard,  I  run  up  to  Paris,  or  over  to 
London.  I  visit  the  theatres,  the  galleries,  the 
races.  I  see  life.  I  mean  that  Dominique  shall 
see  it,  too.  And  I've  paid  particular  attention 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  67 

to  Spain,  'as  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed.'"  And  Ladeuce 
hummed  the  old  air,  while  he  watched  the  Cap 
tain,  who  was  busy  at  the  table  over  his  charts 
and  compasses,  and  with  great  beads  upon  his 
forehead.  "Naturally  it  interests  a  Cuban  im 
porter,"  and  he  laughed.  "  You  have  not  been  in 
Spain  yourself?  Then  you  don't  remember  the 
old  gallows  on  the  cliff  where  they  hung  a  sailor 
for  abducting  the  child  of  a  hidalgo,  as  you  sail 
into  port  at  Eivarra  ? " 

"  What  are  you  driving  at,  Ladeuce  ? "  asked 
the  Captain,  feeling  the  sharp  gaze  overlay  him. 

"  At  nothing,"  laughed  the  other.  "  Have  I  so 
much  artifice  that  you  must  look  for  second  mean 
ings  in  my  words  ?  I  am  but  beguiling  the  time 
for  you  in  my  poor  way  till  Dominique  shall  come 
again.  Do  you  dislike  to  hear  of  Spain  ?  You  are 
in  a  fair  way  to  hear,  a  good  deal  of  her  from  my 
lips.  I  love  the  land.  She  is  the  mother  of  our 
fortunes.  I  hope  some  time  to  leave  this  business 
which,  if  it  keep  your  blood  stirring  with  its  ex 
citements,  has  dangers  in  it  —  dangers  in  it,  —  and 
spend  much  time  there.  More  than  one  night  off 
duty  have  I  managed  to  sleep  in  her  old  palaces  on 


68  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

this  pretext  or  the  other.  It  is  contact  with  those 
dons  that  has  polished  off  my  manners  so,  perhaps. 
And  then,  on  the  whole,  it  is  pleasanter  walking 
in  Spain  than  in  countries  where  one  feels  the 
rope  dragging  from  one's  neck  impede  the  gait. 
To  be  sure,  one  is  really  safe  anywhere  unless 
denounced  —  unless  denounced.  But  how  is  one 
to  know  at  what  moment  an  enemy  may  be  upon 
him  ?  Do  you  think  I  mean  that  I  am  your 
enemy,  Captain  ? "  said  Ladeuce,  in  his  silkiest 
tone.  "On  the  contrary,  on  the  contrary,  you 
never  had  a  better  friend,  unless  you  thwart  my 
purposes." 

It  was  in  this  fashion  that  Ladeuce  beguiled  the 
time  till  Dominique  should  come  again. 


THE   MAEQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  69 


IX. 


IT  was  wintry  weather  when  Dominique  re 
turned  full  of  the  life  of  his  classes.  "It's  no 
wonder  Gascoygne  is  the  man  he  is,"  he  said. 
"  I  ought  to  have  been  in  them  long  ago.  And  if 
it  was  n't  that  I  want  you  for  a  sheet-anchor  here 
you  should  have  been  with  me,  too,  father.  What 
times  we  should  have  had  spelling  over  those 
things  together  ! " 

"  Ah,  you  Ve  gone  beyond  me  now,  Dominique, 
I  fear.  But  I  Ve  not  wasted  all  my  time ;  I  Ve 
found  a  new  arenaria,  —  very  interesting." 

"  You  must  tell  me  about  it.  And  it 's  good 
you  have  the  Lieutenant  with  you,  anyway,"  said 
Dominique,  measuring  the  pale  old  man  with  a 
tender  glance.  "  I  thought  of  it  often  when  away. 
If  you  had  not  I  should  have  wanted  you  to  close 
the  Lonely  Beach  and  go  over  to  Adelaide's." 
And  then  the  young  autocrat  was  in  the  saddle 
and  galloping  on  the  way  to  Adelaide's  himself, 
Ladeuce  beside  him. 


70  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CAEABAS. 

Adelaide  came  swiftly  down  the  hall  to  meet 
him,  with  her  usual  wont.  She  had  a  pot  of  red 
roses  in  her  hand.  As  the  sunlight  fell  on  her 
through  the  jewelled  glass  of  the  hall  skylight  she 
was  a  radiant  object,  with  her  gleaming  eyes  and 
smile.  Dominique's  heart  bounded  to  see  how 
.beautiful  she  was. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  she  cried  gayly.  "  And 
both  my  hands  full."  And  in  another  moment 
the  roses  would  have  gone  had  not  Ladeuce  thrust 
himself  forward. 

"  I,  at  least,"  he  said,  "  must  have  the  roses,  if 
he  is  to  have  the  hand ;  "  and  Adelaide  drew  back 
involuntarily.  "  You  will  not  let  me  relieve  you 
of  such  impedimenta  ?  "  he  said.  And  there  was 
for  a  minute  some  awkwardness  in  her  endeavor 
to  avoid  his  touch  as  his  hands  replaced  her  own 
on  the  little  blue  jar,  which  fell  and  broke  into 
fragments.  In  that  minute  Mrs.  Stuart  and  Miss 
Grey  had  come  to  greet  Dominique,  and  had  drawn 
him  into  the  blue  morning-room  where  Gascoygne, 
whose  practice  was  not  yet  imperative,  had  been 
puzzling  with  Miss  Grey  over  the  notation  of  a 
piece  of  ancient  music.  But  seeing,  from  where 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  71 

he  sat,  Adelaide's  heightened  color,  Gascoygne  hur 
ried  into  the  hall,  to  find  that  she  had  cut  her 
finger  with  an  edge  of  the  glazed  ware ;  and,  while 
some  one  obeyed  her  call  to  sweep  up  the  bits,  he 
bound  her  finger  with  the  aid  of  his  pocket-case, 
and  came  back  with  a  red  rose  from  the  ruins  in 
his  buttonhole,  while  Adelaide  ran  up-stairs  to 
repair  her  toilet. 

If  she  would  have  gone  to  Dominique  when  she 
came  down,  she  was  hindered  by  seeing  him  sit 
there  with  Ladeuce's  arm  about  his  shoulder,  as 
he  detailed  some  affair  of  his  student-life  to  Miss 
Grey ;  and  she  went  instead  and  looked  over  the 
shoulder  of  Gascoygne,  who  had  returned  to  the 
old  music- written  parchment.  "  I  can't  tell  what 
I  am  going  to  do,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Gas 
coygne,  "  if  that  man  persists  in  coming  here.  It 
is  out  of  my  power  to  be  friendly ;  and  I  hate  to 
speak  of  his  behavior  to  Allia  or  mamma,  for  the 
dear  old  Captain's  sake.  And  oh,  I  hate  to  see 
him  so  with  Dominique  ! " 

"Why  not  speak  of  it  to  Dominique?"  said 
Gascoygne.  "I  had  intended  to." 

"Of  his  father's   friend!     I  couldn't.     But   it 


72         THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

is  disturbing  to  see  him  about  Dominique,"  she 
repeated. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  a  soft  voice  behind  them, 
"  that  you  will  have  to  endure  it."  And  they 
turned  to  encounter  Ladeuce,  who  had  left  the 
others  and  gone  into  the  hall  for  a  bit  of  rough  rose- 
pink  coral  that  he  had  brought  for  Allia,  and  now 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  portiere  at  the  other 
door.  It  was  just  as  he  spoke  that  Dominique 
left  Miss  Grey  and  approached  Adelaide,  who,  half 
turned'  to  stone  by  the  incident,  was  unable  to 
reply  a  syllable  to  the  gay  bright  words  addressed 
her. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you,  Adelaide  ? "  said 
Dominique.  "  What  —  " 

At  that  moment  Allia  came  dancing  into  the 
room,  reminding  one  both  of  the  pet  leopard  some 
Roman  lady  may  have  had,  and  of  the  broken 
bits  of  sunlight  that  children  flash  about  from 
mirrors.  "  Where  is  Dominique  ? "  she  cried. 
"  How  glad  we  are  to  see  you  back !  And  did 
you  bring  Mr.  Ladeuce  over  ?  I  want  to  thank 
him  for  the  coral.  Oh,  Mr.  Ladeuce,  was  it  you 
that  just  sent  it  up  to  me  ?  There 's  nothing 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS.  73 

like  it  in  all  Coastcliff.  I  suppose  Adelaide 
will  be  wanting  it  to  make  this  blue  and  white 
room  look  more  like  a  piece  of  china  than  ever. 
But  I  shall  have  it  cut  up  into  a  necklace.  How 
many  creatures  have  worked  how  many  years, 
Miss  Grey,  to  make  those  beads  for  me  ? " 

As  they  rode  down  the  hill,  Dominique  turned 
to  Ladeuce.  "I  wonder  if  it  is  I  that  have 
changed  ? "  he  said.  "  Certainly  this  is  not  the 
same  place  I  left — •" 

"The  same  with  a  difference,"  said  Ladeuce. 
"The  difference  that  your  friend  Gascoygne  has 
been  poaching  on  your  preserves." 

They  rode  on  in  silence,  Dominique  of  a  sudden 
full  of  strange  thoughts,  his  chin  upon  his  breast, 
and  as  the  Captain,  shut  up  with  a  lame  foot,  saw 
the  two  come  riding  on  together,  badly  as  he  had 
held  himself  to  be  abused  by  fate  when  alone  with 
his  lieutenant,  he  felt  willing  to  spend  the  balance 
of  his  life  alone  with  him  in  a  dungeon,  provided  he 
could  thus  keep  the  man  away  from  Dominique. 

But  there  was  no  such  thing  as  keeping  him 
away  from  Dominique.  He  must  out  and  tramp 
with  him  across  the  frozen  meadows,  he  must 


74  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAKABAS. 

over  to  the  yards  and  see  about  the  boat  build 
ing  there  for  him,  he  must  be  telling  him  by  the 
fireside  strange  stories  of  a  life  and  adventure  far 
outside  his  skies,  he  must  join  him  in  his  visits 
to  the  Stuarts,  where  Dominique  had  already 
found  him  established  on  easy  terms.  For  Mrs. 
Stuart's  strong  point  was  her  confidence  in  hu 
manity  ;  and  having  admitted  Captain  Dacre  to 
the  fulness  of  friendship,  a  castaway,  of  whom 
she  knew  nothing,  she  would  not  have  entertained 
an  idea  of  different  treatment  of  his  guest.  As 
for  Miss  Grey,  ignorant  of  all  but  her  books, 
she  regarded  Ladeuce  as  one  regards  a  new  speci 
men,  and  in  what  slight  measure  he  entered  her 
thoughts  it  was  only  to  be  labelled  and  classi 
fied.  Adelaide,  indeed,  had  little  to  say  to  him ; 
nothing,  in  fact,  since,  meeting  him  in  the  lower 
fishing-town  by  twilight,  she  had  experienced  from 
him,  before  he  recognized  her  proud  carriage,  the 
same  impertinence  with  which  he  had  been  cajol 
ing  a  group  of  bare-legged  fisher-girls,  and  had 
passed  without  appearing  to  observe  him,  not 
confiding  the  incident  to  Gascoygne  till  it  was 
too  late  for  him  to  take  notice  of  it.  It  was  Allia 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.         75 

who  made  the  man  most  welcome.  Eeared  in  a 
seclusion  foreign  to  her  inclinations,  his  expe 
rience  was  like  the  gateway  of  the  world,  his  flat 
teries  were  the  homage  that  was  her  due,  and  his 
small  curios,  which  her  cousin  might  have  seen 
no  harm  in  her  accepting,  had  she  known  of  all 
of  them,  satisfied  her  sense  of  accumulation,  and 
fed  her  love  of  luxury  with  ideas  of  a  luxury 
beyond  her. 

All  this  seemed  well  enough  to  Dominique. 
The  Lieutenant  was  his  father's  friend,  and  a  very 
fascinating  man  besides.  He  had  seen  the  world. 
How  was  Dominique  to  know  of  the  storm  of 
sorrow  and  shame  raging  in  the  breast  of  the 
Captain  at  the  impossibility  of  doing  anything  else 
than  connive  at  the  introduction  of  this  contra- 
bandista  into  a  gentle  family  ?  —  the  Captain,  who 
in  his  youth  had  drifted  into  a  bad  business  inci 
dentally,  had  pursued  -  it  thoughtlessly,  had  aban 
doned  it  eagerly,  had  repented  it  bitterly. 

What  did  not  seem  so  well  to  Dominique  was 
this  frozen  manner  of  Adelaide's  that  had  grown  up 
since  his  departure,  and  was  entirely  new  to  him, 
that  he  did  not  once  associate  with  repulsion  from 


76  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

Ladeuce,  that  after  a  half-dozen  more  experiences 
of  it,  Ladeuce  having  lit  the  darkness  by  a  flash, 
meant  to  his  excited  fears  that  Gascoygne  and 
she  were  about  to  enter  a  charmed  world  to 
gether  and  leave  him,  like  a  moth,  to  flutter  round 
the  lighted  window  of  their  happiness. 

He  had  been  so  full  of  the  joy  of  life  that 
he  had  hardly  stopped  to  name  his  perceptions. 
Yet  the  thought  that  Adelaide  should  be  a  part 
of  any  one  but  himself  struck  him  like  a  blow  of 
cold,  sharp  steel.  He  went  about  suffering  with 
his  wound,  unaware  that  his  own  manner  reacted 
on  hers  and  made  other  demeanor  difficult  to 
her.  But  whatever  it  all  meant,  and  however  it 
all  came  about,  it  served  to  throw  Dominique  back 
upon  Ladeuce.  Let  the  happy  people  on  the  hill 
alone ;  they  were  of  a  different  race  from  him,  a 
vagabond  of  the  water  world ;  he  would  stay  with 
his  kind.  It  was  his  first  experience  of  trouble, 
and  it  went  hard  with  him.  If  this  was  all  there 
was  of  life,  was  it  worth  while  to  have  it  ?  He 
had  no  anger  with  Gascoygne;  Gascoygne  de 
served  all  the  happiness  there  was  in  the  world, 
only  he  could  not  stand  by  and  see  him  enjoy  it. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  77 

It  all  fitted  admirably  with  the  ideas  of  La- 
deuce,  however.  "  A  very  suitable  arrangement, 
that  of  your  friend  Gascoygne  and  the  girl  Ade 
laide,"  he  said.  "  The  young  man  will  settle  to 
a  good  country  doctor's  practice,  and  his  wife  will 
keep  his  dinners  hot  for  him.  As  for  you,"  said 
Ladeuce,  "  you  have  to  see  the  world." 


78  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 


IT  was  not  much  of  the  world  that  Dominique 
saw  in  the  next  week.  He  stayed  at  home  with 
his  father,  he  walked  the  beach  with  Ladeuce, 
listening  to  the  man's  strange  stories  that  breathed 
in  his  ear  a  sort  of  forbidden  music.  He  did  not 
go  at  all  to  the  cottage  on  the  hill,  where  he  had 
been  wont  to  present  himself  every  morning.  The 
consequence  was  that,  after  some  days,  the  sleigh 
came  over  with  Adelaide  and  her  mother,  Allia 
and  Gascoygne.  "I  suppose  I  must  put  up 
with  the  man,"  Adelaide  had  said  to  Gascoygne. 
"  I  can't  let  the  Captain  slip  out  of  our  lives  in 
this  way,  and  he  suffering  with  his  foot.  And  if 
we  don't  go  to-day,  I  don't  know  when  we  can. 
Mamma  has  a  meeting  to-morrow,  and  there  is 
snow  all  along  the  sea  that  will  be  driving  in  by 
night." 

The  snow  was  driving  in  before  night ;  but  La- 
deuce  being  absent  in  the  town  they  had  such  a 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  79 

delightful,  old-time  day  that  there  was  no  resisting 
the  Captain's  urgency  that  they  should  stay  and 
dine,  and  brighten  the  gloom  of  the  increasing 
storm  which  their  fine  spirits  hardly  let  them  heed 
till  the  sudden  twilight  fell  like  a  pall.  When  the 
Lieutenant  came  in  he  was  shaggy  with  the  snow, 
and  reported  the  weather  all  he  could  make  way 
against. 

Gascoygne  went  out  to  the  stables  at  once. 
"  We  have  been  foolish  to  stay,"  he  said  with 
vexation,  as  he  returned.  "  But  it  is  of  no  use  to 
fret  now.  If  we  attempt  to  get  back  we  shall  be 
snowed  in  half-way,  where  it  would  be  impossible 
either  to  go  or  come.  The  storms  in  this  bay 
are  as  swift  as  typhoons.  We  shall  have  to 
claim  your  hospitality,  Captain  Dacre,  for  the 
night." 

And  there  was  never  man  more  delighted  than 
Captain  Dacre  to  afford  it.  It  gave  him  some 
thing  of  his  former  peace  to  have  these  familiar 
friends  about  him  so  again.  It  seemed  to  him, 
every  time  he  looked  at  Adelaide's  sweet  face  in 
the  flowers  with  which  he  kept  the  great  glass 
recess  filled,  or  by  the  firelight  of  his  hearth,  while 


80  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAEABAS. 

the  storm  roared  on  outside,  as  if  possibly  he 
might  overcome  his  evil  genius,  after  all. 

Dominique  went  hesitatingly  and  sat  by  Ade 
laide.  Mrs.  Stuart  bustled  about  with  the  man 
and  maid  making  arrangements,  the  white  hand 
with  its  ruby  as  busy  as  a  witch  in  the  gale.  Gas- 
coygne  walked  up  and  down,  looking  out  every 
few  turns  at  the  storm.  The  wind  wailed  about 
the  house;  they  could  hear  the  scream  of  the 
breaker  and  its  thunderous  pounding  on  the  beach 
below  the  long  slope,  the  hiss  of  the  flying  spray 
that  almost  swept  the  windows,  the  far,  wide 
booming  of  sea  beyond  sea ;  but  the  early  darkness 
was  black  and  impenetrable  except  where  the  snow 
whirled  and  fled  by  like  sparks  of  fire.  The  Cap 
tain  sat  quietly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth, 
that  faint  ray  of  old  content  upon  his  face.  "  The 
storm  outside,"  he  said,  "makes  our  safety  and 
warmth  inside  so  much  safer  and  warmer.  The 
darkness  makes  our  fire  so  much  ruddier." 

"These  storms,"  said  Dominique,  "follow  the 
inner  storms  with  a  strange  attraction.  When  I 
am  at  unrest  I  like  to  be  out  in  them,  as  if  I  be 
longed  to  the  weather." 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  81 

"  You  are  not  at  unrest  now  then,"  said  Ade 
laide,  with  her  calm  smile. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  should  like  everything  to 
pause  forever  just  here." 

"  The  storms  are  like  a  great  story  to  me,"  said 
the  Captain.  "  I  always  think  of  the  latitudes 
one  has  travelled  over  to  get  here ;  the  palms  it 
uprooted  before  it  twisted  these  oaks ;  the  heated 
air  that  rose  over  the  hot- water  regions  for  cooler  air 
to  rush  in  and  take  its  place,  ploughing  down  the 
Gulf,  rushing  from  the  Carolinas  and  making  the 
gale  off  Hatteras,  whistling  into  the  vacant  space 
from  Delaware  and  Chesapeake  till  the  tempest 
works  havoc  on  the  Eastern  Shore,  then  room  for 
the  cold  blast  from  the  Canadas  to  sing  in,  till  we 
have  the  northeaster  roaring  the  whole  length  of 
the  coast  against  the  wind,  and  growing  fiercer 
every  moment  of  the  fight.  Eh  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dominique,  "  and  there  comes  to  be 
then  a  personality  about  a  storm,  as  if  it  had  a 
supernatural  life  of  its  own  —  were  a  great  ele 
mentary  agency;  and  it  makes  your  heart  beat 
when  you  think  that  you,  that  any  man  with  a 
rope  and  stick,  can  face  it  and  master  it,  as  a  thou- 
6 


82  THE  MAEQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

sand  little  coasters  are  doing  now  —  only  give 
them  sea-room." 

"  It  might  make  your  heart  beat  in  a  different 
fashion,"  said  Ladeuce,  "  if  you  had  seen  some  of 
the  tempests  that  Dacre  and  I  have  tussled  with 
down  in  the  hurricane  region.  Do  you  call  to 
mind  one,  my  Captain,  when  we  brought  up  a 
drowning  woman  and  child  from  the  wreckage 
floating  by  us  ?  There  were  a  thousand  furies 
abroad  that  night.  It  makes  you  pale  to  think  of 
it,  I  see.  Tush,  tush,  it 's  over  now,  and  I  Ve  seen 
almost  as  bad  a  one  conjured  up  by  a  Fantee  on  a 
West  Indian  reef  with  the  bead  I  just  gave  Miss 
Allia,  — a  little  Voodoo  devil,  I  think  it  is." 

"  You  don't  mean  so  ! "  exclaimed  Allia. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  it  is  a  little  Voodoo  devil,  or 
I  don't  mean  that  I  have  seen  the  storm  ?  There 
is  no  accounting  for  these  Obeah  mysteries ;  you 
can  show  this  bead  to  any  black  in  the  tropics  and 
he  will  fall  to  trembling  —  " 

"  I  rather  think,"  laughed  Allia,  "  I  had  better 
not  wear  it." 

'•  Why,  the  very  man  who  gave  it  to  me  —  he 
was  a  slaver  —  " 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  83 

"  A  slaver ! "  cried  Adelaide  forgetfully.  "  And 
you  know  such  men ! " 

"  One  falls  in  with  everybody  in  beating  about 
the  world." 

"  Enough,  Ladeuce  ! "  said  the  Captain  with  sud 
den  roughness.  "  Enough  ! " 

"  You  see  the  power  of  the  little  fetich  for  your 
self,"  said  the  man  again,  after  his  sharp  glance 
and  laugh.  "  What  a  storm  it  is  beginning  to 
arouse  in  Miss  Allia  and  the  Captain  !  If  she 
threw  it  in  the  fire  I  've  no  doubt  you  would 
see  a  flame  flash  up  the  chimney,  with  a  black 
devil  a-top  of  it,  that  would  make  your  hair 
stand  on  end.  Oh,  yes,  I  have  fallen  in  with 
slavers,  Miss  Adelaide.  And  there  might  be 
worse  men." 

"  Never ! "  cried  Adelaide. 

"  Never  ?" 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  about  impossible," 
said  Dominique,  poking  the  fire. 

"  Prejudice  !  I  have  been  entertained  on  board 
their  craft  and  — 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Adelaide  again.  "  You 
have  broken  the  bread  of  such  creatures  !  " 


84  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CAEABAS. 

"  A  cosmopolitan  takes  the  world  as  he  finds  it. 
You  would  not  break  their  bread  ?  " 

"  Oh  no ! "  she  cried,  with  her  face  white  and 
her  eyes  glowing,  as  if  feeling  herself  degraded 
by  the  address  of  one  who  would.  "  I  should  die 
with  the  first  morsel !  I  should  hope  to,  indeed ! 
The  bread  of  barterers  in  flesh  and  blood  —  " 

"  You  meet  every  day,  and  with  no  shrinking, 
some  man  who  sells  rum  or  opium,  who  barters 
in  souls,  who  makes  widows  and  orphans.  Now 
you  know  nothing  about  it,"  he  said,  modulating 
his  tones.  "  The  slaver  follows  his  business  with 
no  more  idea  of  wrong  than  the  men  in  your 
bay  have  when  they  come  in  with  a  cargo  of 
herring  —  " 

"Nonsense,  Lieutenant,"  said  Dominique. 
"  There  you  go  too  far.  Men  cannot  traffic  in 
flesh  and  blood  and  not  know  it.  Men  cannot 
dip  their  hands  into  the  horrors  of  the  middle 
passage,  cannot  pursue  the  vilest,  most  loathsome 
business  in  life,  and  not  be  corrupted.  Faugh  ! 
I  agree  with  Adelaide.  I  would  as  soon  touch 
the  hand  of  a  leper  ! " 

Ladeuce  laughed  again.     "  How  impetuous  you 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  85 

are!  You  go  off  half  cocked — Ah!  What  is 
this,  my  Captain  ?  You  are  the  color  of  palm 
oil  and  ivory  ! "  And  they  all  started  to  see  the 
Captain  bending  over  the  fire,  pale  as  clay  and 
muttering  to  himself. 

"  It  revolts  him,"  said  Ladeuce.  "  He  has  sen 
sibilities." 

"Let  me  alone,"  said  the  Captain  hoarsely. 
And  only  Ladeuce  guessed  with  what  difficulty 
that  backward  motion  of  the  uplifted  hand  was 
kept  from  hitting  the  face  above  him  and  cutting 
the  smooth  lips  against  the  teeth. 

Dominique  came  quickly  to  his  father  with  a 
glass  of  wine.  "  You  have  taken  a  cold,"  he  said. 
"  We  will  all  have  champagne  with  you.  The 
Lieutenant  has  taught  us  drinking  habits.  We 
will  have  a  little  concrete  summer  to  drown  out 
this  bitter  winter.  Are  you  all  right  now  ?  I 
am  glad  Gascoygne  is  here.  You  are  not  going 
to  be  ill  ?  I  never  saw  you  really  ill." 

"  I  am  all  right,"  said  the  Captain,  with  shaking 
lips.  "  Let  me  be  —  let  me  be.  A  sudden  chill. 
My  foot.  If  I  snatch  a  minute's  sleep  you  will 
pardon  me,  Mrs.  Stuart  ?"  And  Mrs.  Stuart  had 


86  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

hurried  for  a  cushion,  and  Adelaide,  springing  to 
her  feet,  had  already  brought  a  sofa  blanket  and 
had  sat  down  on  a  low  hassock  at  his  side, 
holding  his  hand,  that  had  a  strange  thrill  in  it. 
"  Now  sleep,"  she  said,  "  and  we  will  talk  as  if 
you  were  miles  away.  Do  you  .want  me  to  sing 
to  you  first  ? "  And  she  loosened  the  roses  from 
her  breast  and  pinned  them  on  his  coat,  and,  tak 
ing  his  hand  again  in  hers,  sang  the  old  Scotch 
songs  he  liked  so  well  that  she  had  sung  all  the 
tune  out  of  them  for  her  own  ears  long  ago.  And 
only  Dominique,  who  stood  with  his  hand  on  his 
father's  head,  heard  him  murmuring,  "Ah,  it  is 
too  much,  too  much  !  All  these  innocent  things." 
"  I  heard  that  last  air  once  on  the  Sierras,"  said 
Ladeuce  gently,  when  she  ceased,  "as  I  came 
across.  I  had  an  errand  into  Catalonia,  —  a 
thread  of  romance  I  was  following  up.  I  shall 
always  associate  it,  not  with  Scotch  lads  and 
lasses  and  the  Castle  o'  Montgomerie,  but  with 
the  old  castle  of  the  Marquises  del  Eiviero, — 
the  Marquis  Angel  del  Eiviero  y  Zumalaxericas, 
to  give  you  the  long  and  short  of  it.  That  is 
what  the  name  of  the  Marquis  in  this  generation 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  87 

would  be  if  he  were  in  possession  or  were  in  exist 
ence.  But  they  don't  know  where  he  is.  They 
don't  know  where  he  is,"  repeated  Ladeuce  slowly. 
"  I  passed  some  nights  once  in  the  castle  among 
its  frowning  mountains.  I  had  access  to  family 
papers.  And  such  estates  as  are  his  for  the  tak 
ing  !  Mines  of  cinnabar  and  coal,  vineyards  and 
wheat  fields  and  cork  forests  in  old  Spain,  sugar 
and  coffee  plantations  in  Porto  Rico,  and  quar 
ries  of  wonderful  marbles  in  the  Tsla  de  Pinos  — 
revenues  of  doubloons  that  have  piled  together 
year  by  year.  There  is  no  richer  hidalgo  in  all 
the  kingdom.  And  what  blood  flows  in  his  veins ! 
It  is  the  blood  of  kings.  Heroes  lift  their  hands 
whenever  he  does.  Ojald  !  Some  day  the  young 
Marquis  will  come  to  his  own." 

"  The  what  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Stuart,  who  had  been 
nodding  herself. 

"  The  Marquis  Angel  del  Eiviero  y  Zumalaxeri- 
cas.  Thanks.  I  like  to  roll  the  syllables." 

"  Is  he  young  ? "  asked  Allia. 

"He  ought  to  be  just  turned  of  twenty-one,  if 
he  is  alive  at  all,"  said  the  raconteur.  "  And  what 
a  career  waits  for  him  !  A  dozen  titles  of  his  own, 


88  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

—  an  old  grandee  of  Spain.     Jewels  fit  for  crowns. 
Castles  in  the  hills  and  summer  palaces  by  the 
sea.     Not  a  pleasure  in  Christendom  but  at  his 
service.      Not   a  princess   in   Europe  but  might 
take  his   hand.      What  fiestas  he  will  have  to 
remember  —  " 

" '  What  nights  we  had  in  Egypt/  "  said  Domi 
nique  idly. 

"  And  how  do  you  know  he  will  come  to  his 
own  ? "  asked  Allia. 

"I  don't  believe  he  can  stay  away,"  said  La- 
deuce,  lifting  his  eyebrows.  "  Probably  kept  in 
ignorance  by  those  that  mean  well ;  but  murder 
will  out,  you  know.  He  will  learn  to  love  luxury 

—  he  will  gravitate  to  his  own." 
"  If  it  is  his  own,  I  hope  so." 

"And  there  is  something  picturesque,  is  there 
not,"  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  "about  such  rank  and 
wealth  and  all  its  appanage  —  old  halls  your 
fathers  trod,  old  banners  they  bore  to  battle  —  " 

"And  old  gold  they  didn't  spend.  For  my 
part,  I  only  wish  I  were  twenty  years  younger 
and  able  to  prove  myself  the  Marquis  Angel  del 
Kiviero  y  Zumalaxericas." 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  89 

"  And  for  my  part,"  said  Dominique,  "  I  am  con 
tent  as  I  am,  and  only  wish  this  evening  were  to 
last  a  hundred  years.  You  may  be  your  Marquis 
of  Carabas  and  welcome,  Lieutenant.  I  had  much 
rather  be  the  son  of  an  old  sea  captain,  sitting 
here  and  hearing  the  storm  and  the  sea  tear  up 
and  down  the  beach  in  these  great  organ  tones. 
I  think  you  will  have  to  stay  here  a  week  at  least, 
Adelaide." 

"  I  think  we  will  all  go  to  bed,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  staggering  to  his  feet.  "  This  gale  takes  the 
vitality  out  of  us." 

But  after  they  had  gone  to  their  rooms,  long 
unoccupied,  although  rude  comfort  had  been  im 
provised  there,  Dominique  lingered  in  the  low 
glow  cast  by  the  fire  through  the  place,  lost  in 
revery.  What  had  so  suddenly  changed  his 
wintry  atmosphere  till  it  was  warm  and  sweet 
as  the  breath  of  the  old  lemon-tree,  of  the  olean 
der  and  jasmine,  stealing  towards  him  from  the 
recess  ?  He  did  not  know  that  Adelaide's  own 
spirit  had  risen,  as  if  from  the  body  of  death, 
in  the  absence  all  day  of  that  gaze  which  some 
times  hovered  over  her  like  a  carrion-crow  over  its 


90  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAR  ABAS. 

prey.  He  only  knew  that  the  sun  had  come  out 
across  what  had  seemed  a  gray  waste ;  that  he  saw 
the  way  plain  before  him  to  Adelaide ;  that,  if  he 
should  die  to-night,  life  would  have  repaid  him  for 
all,  since  he  had  found  what  he  thought  destroyed. 
Did  he  not  feel  now,  hours  afterward,  the  beating 
of  her  heart  when,  the  music-box  still  singing  out 
its  tune,  he  had  thrown  his  arm  about  her  and 
waltzed  down  the  cold  stone  hall  on  the  way  to 
dinner  ?  Did  he  not  still  thrill  with  that  touch 
of  her  fragrant  hair  as  he  did  then  ?  Did  he  not 
remember  the  tender  bloom  in  her  great  sea-blue 
eyes,  the  tremor  in  her  hand  as  she  reached  it  up 
to  him  when  he  sat  on  the  arm  of  his  father's 
chair  saying  he  wished  the  evening  were  to  last 
a  hundred  years  ?  He  reproached  himself  for  the 
happy  moments  he  had  lost  —  lost  ?  Not,  lost  if 
they  changed  that  amorphous  affection  of  hers 
into  the  crystallic  force  of  a  passion  !  Before  she 
slept  that  night,  Adelaide  heard  his  voice  rising 
through  the  house,  on  the  sub-bass  of  the  long 
roll  of  the  sea  up  the  coast,  in  a  song  where  every 
now  and  then  the  music  broke  into  her  name 
like  the  foam-crest  of  a  passionate  wave,  with  its 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  91 

burden  of  devotion  and  despair,  —  a  burden  which 
might  have  been  the  heritage  of  some  wasted  life, 
long  since  forgotten,  waking  and  singing  it  out 
within  him,  which  could  have  been  no  fear  now, 
or  sorrow  of  his  own.  For  in  Dominique's  heart, 
this  night,  nothing  but  a  wild  new  hope,  as  much 
like  joy  as  hope,  was  fluttering  and  beating  its 
wings,  ready  to  spring  into  limitless  heaven. 

The  storm  had  blown  out  its  fury  when  they 
rose  in  the  morning.  The  sun  shone  in  an  azure 
heaven  where  the  wind  huddled  a  white  flock  of 
clouds  before  it;  the  sea  was  swinging  in  huge 
sapphire  rollers,  and  throwing  a  spray  of  frozen 
spume  far  up  the  beach  and  the  long  slope  be 
low  the  windows ;  the  old  plum  orchard  and  the 
twisted  oaks  glittered  in  crystal;  the  world  was 
white  far  back  over  the  meadows,  and  the  farmers 
with  their  steaming  oxen  were  breaking  out  the 
roads,  which  they  had  grown  into  the  habit  of 
doing  for  the  Captain,  who  had  not  only  become 
the  friend  of  each  one  among  them,  but  who  was 
so  important  an  aid  in  the  matter  of  their  taxes. 
The  harnesses  were  lengthened  with  straps  from 
the  Captain's  team,  the  horses  were  put  in  tandem, 


92  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

the  better  to  tread  the  narrow  road,  the  merry 
party  went  out  into  the  peaceful  world  of  snow 
and  sun,  the  horses  floundering  and  plunging,  the 
sleigh  tipping,  the  drifts  powdering  about  them, 
but  Dominique  riding  the  thill-horse  and  taking 
them  safely  through,  his  satchel  under  their  seats, 
on  the  way  back  with  him  to  his  classes. 

"  Dominique,"  his  father  had  said  to  him  when 
alone,  on  the  morning  he  started,  "  you  pleased  me 
last  night  when  they  talked  and  thought  me  sleep 
ing.  You  showed  you  despised  wealth.  Have 
you  ever  considered  that  there  is  something  less 
noble  than  work,  in  living  on  another's  earnings, 
in  living  even  on  your  own  earnings  of  the  past, 
while  you  have  life  and  health  and  strength  ? 
What  if  we  gave  what  we  have  to  those  that  need 
it  more,  and  started  freshly  in  life,  you  and  I  ? 
There  are  not  two  better  mariners  afloat  than  we, 
and  I  have  furbished  up  all  I  ever  knew  and 
spent  nights  in  studying  the  new  charts.  If  we 
kept  enough  to  buy  a  coaster  to  begin  with,  we 
could  pay  for  it  from  our  earnings,  presently,  in 
carrying  deals  or  coal  or  fish,  or  running  packet. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ? " 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS.         93 

"  I  think  you  are  a  little  beside  yourself,"  said 
Dominique  gayly,  "with  last  night's  pleasure. 
And  I  think,  moreover,  that  you  had  better  come 
up  to  me  as  soon  as  I  am  settled  and  have  a  go 
at  my  mathematics." 


94  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 


XI. 


IT  was  not  Captain  Dacre  that  went  up  to  Domi 
nique.  It  was  Ladeuce,  who,  bidding  the  Captain 
good-by  for  a  while,  installed  himself  in  lodgings 
at  Dominique's  elbow  and  began  to  make  himself 
indispensable,  not  all  at  once,  but  by  degrees,  not 
to  the  young  man's  mathematics,  but  to  his  pleas 
ures.  And  why  not?  Why  should  Dominique 
distrust  his  father's  friend  ?  Why  should  he  stop  to 
think  twice  of  the  right  or  wrong  of  a  thing  with 
him  ?  Theatres  ?  Oh,  he  had  always  gone  to  the 
theatre.  But  behind  the  scenes  —  that  was  a  new 
world.  That  was  to  be  a  man  about  town.  And 
behind  the  scenes  at  a  ballet  —  ah !  here  life  be 
gan.  Wines  ?  horses  ?  play  ?  sumptuous  dinners 
with  good  comrades  ?  Now  things  went  more 
swiftly.  Splendor  ?  spendthriftry  ?  Ladeuce  paid 
the  bills.  Were  not  things  always  within  bounds  ? 
Was  there  not  a  certain  elegance  about  it  all  ? 
Did  Ladeuce  suffer  degeneration  into  vulgarity  in 


THE  MAEQUIS  OF  CARABAS.         95 

his  lessons  in  the  love  of  luxury  ?  The  man  was 
charming,  the  pleasures  were  alluring,  young 
blood  is  hot ;  and  in  Dominique's  blood,  with  its 
tropic  currents,  with  what  answered  for  the  milk 
of  the  old  Komaii  wolf,  to  dream  was  to  do,  to 
wish  was  to  possess.  His  swift  senses  swept  him 
away  on  the  eddy  into  the  vortex  before  he  knew 
his  foot  was  wet.  The  love  of  Adelaide  ?  Ade 
laide  would  be  there  still  when  he  went  back  to 
her,  and  was  he  going  to  be  a  poltroon  and  hesi 
tate  about  seeing  life  for  the  sake  of  any  lily-liv 
ered  girl  ?  His  father  —  If  all  Ladeuce  hinted 
were  true,  his  father  had  seen  life  long  ago,  and 
would  know  it  was  but  passing  through  an  expe 
rience  of  his  own.  His  letters  home  had  never 
been  frequent ;  why  should  they  be  more  so  now, 
since  neither  asymptote  nor  hyperbola,  straight-flush 
nor  ante,  would  particularly  please  the  readers  ? 
And  as  for  the  sequel  —  but  why  follow  him  ? 
One  day  it  would  all  be  a  bad,  a  hideous  dream 
and  delirium.  Just  now  it  was  a  wild  and  reckless 
career  of —  Those  who  loved  Dominique  would 
not  have  wished  to  call  it  sin,  and,  every  night's 
madness  followed  by  every  morning's  remorse,  how 
could  they  call  it  pleasure  ? 


96  THE  MAEQUIS   OF   CAKABAS. 

There  were  throughout  this  period  some  vaca 
tions  at  home,  where  the  old  Captain,  relieved  from 
his  incubus,  followed  his  simple  interests  in  his 
laboratory  and  among  his  flowers,  with  his  one 
day  and  night  weekly  at  the  cottage  011  the  hill, 
thoughtless  of  the  possibility  of  those  experiences 
that  caused  the  name  of  Ladeuce  to  be  unmen- 
tioned  by  his  son.  Only  to  Adelaide's  eyes  was 
change  apparent,  She  knew  by  subtile  instincts, 
whose  whispers  cannot  be  muffled,  that  it  was 
another  in  Galahad's  armor ;  and  as  she  looked  for 
his  coming  over  the  sea  or  over  the  land,  from  her 
flower-hung  window  on  the  hill,  her  heart  was 
often  sore  with  its  suspense  and  sorrow. 

The  Captain  was  paying  his  weekly  visit  on  the 
hill,  one  autumn  afternoon,  when  all  things  were 
rich  in  that  sweet  decay  of  sodden  leaf  and  golden 
haze  with  which  the  dead  year  rises  and  simulates 
a  mockery  of  summer  for  a  while.  The  yellow 
leaves  of  the  vine  about  the  casement  flickered 
in  the  last  sunbeam,  but,  within  the  room,  it  was 
already  twilight,  twilight  so  dim  and  deep  in  the 
corners  that  it  was  no  wonder  some  one,  coming  in, 
should  stumble  over  an  unseen  footstool  and  fall 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CAR  ABAS.  97 

upon  a  lounge.  "  It  is  all  right,"  said  Dominique. 
"<  Where  he  fell,  there  he  lay.'  I  wonder  if 
Sisera  had  had  a  champagne  breakfast  before  he 
fell  —  " 

"  Is  that  you,  Dominique  ? "  asked  Captain 
Dacre.  "  Why,  where  did  you  come  from  ? " 

"Came  from  the  table  an  hour  ago  or  so. 
We  've  been  celebrating  the  day.  No  day  in  par 
ticular  ;  just  this  day ;  any  day  ;  the  day  on  which 
we  find  ourselves  alive  and  radiant  with  health." 

"  What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  Dominique  ! " 
said  Allia. 

"Very  far  from  nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Stuart, 
with  her  usual  sublime  oblivion  of  facts.  "  Any 
day  or  every  day  is  a  day  on  which  to  be  thank 
ful  under  all  circumstances." 

"  So,"  continued  Dominique,  "  I  thought  I  would 
put  the  benediction  on  by  coming  down  here. 
Where  is  Adelaide  ?  " 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Adelaide,  without  moving. 

"  Sweet  and  cold.  But  it  sounds  like  a  bird 
singing  in  the  dark,  that  voice.  Do  you  remem 
ber,  father,  that  bird  in  the  night  in  the  Southern 
forests,  with  the  voice  like  a  tolling  bell  ?  You 

7 


98  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

don't  like  to  talk  of  the  Southern  forests  ?  And 
there  are  pleasanter  things  than  the  voices  that 
sound  like  tolling  bells,  —  the  still  small  voice, 
for  instance.  Fate  will  always  overtake  you," 
cried  Dominique.  "  Sometimes  in  disaster,  some 
times  in  self-accusation,  sometimes  in  the  voice  of 
the  woman  you  love.  This  fate  that  people  call 
providence,  and  that  is  only  the  attraction  of  cohe 
sion  and  gravitation,  the  setting  of  crystals,  the 
moving  of  particles  into  place,  wrong  righting 
wrong  as  two  negatives  make  the  affirmative,  fate 
that  follows  poison  with  death  and  death  with 
hell  —  " 

"  Dominique,  what  are  you  talking  about ! " 

"Of  'fate,  free  will,  foreknowledge  absolute/" 
said  Dominique  lightly.  "  This  fate  that  you  be 
lieve  lies  in  wait  for  us,  as  much  as  I  do,  —  this 
vengeance  that  overtakes  the  broken  law  —  " 

"  Sometimes  I  am  afraid  I  do,"  said  the  Captain, 
leaning  forward  with  his  chin  upon  his  cane. 
"But  it's  a  sad  thought.  I  banish  it.  Those 
that  have  sinned,  fear  —  " 

"  It  is  an  irreligious  thought,"  said  Miss  Grey. 
"  It  does  away  with  the  over-ruling  hand." 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  99 

"Yet  had  I  never  seen  the  thing,"  said  the 
Captain,  "  never  seen  the  vengeance  fall  like  a 
bolt  upon  the  lightning  —  " 

"  How  is  that  ? "  said  Dominique. 

"  Oh,  years  ago.  A  mere  matter  of  my  ex 
perience." 

"  Make  it  a  matter  of  ours." 

"  It 's  but  a  trifle,  although  it  had  effect  upon 
me.  No,  no !  not  a  trifle ! "  he  exclaimed  then 
suddenly  with  the  thought  of  it.  "  It  was  a 
shock,  a  blow,  a  terrible  hurt.  Let  me  tell  you. 
I  was  exploring  for  parties  who  had  projects  con 
cerning  a  canal  between  the  two  oceans,  —  I  and 
three  others,  I  carrying,  as  it  chanced,  a  good  sum 
of  money  not  belonging  to  me.  One  night  I 
woke,  as  you  will  sometimes  when  evil  things 
cross  your  line  of  life,  in  a  wet  chill ;  and  I  found 
myself,  except  for  my  Indian  boy,  alone  in  the 
forest.  My  three  companions  had  fled,  and  they 
had  taken  the  boat  with  them,  and  they  had 
taken  that  money.  My  blood  was  cold,  and  my 
heart  stood  still.  Eobbed  of  trust-money,  —  and 
nobody  would  believe  the  story.  It  was  absolute 
ruin,  I  just  beginning  life.  I  would  rather  have 


100  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

died.  I  lay  on  my  face  and  wished  I  had  died, 
and  life  was  strong  in  me,  before  I  joined  myself 
to  those  men,  —  men  whom  I  had  chosen,  and 
whose  fortunes  I  would  have  made.  And,  think 
ing  of  their  treachery,  my  heart  began  to  beat 
again,  beat  like  a  cannonading  in  my  ears,  and 
my  blood  to  surge  over  me  in  hot,  tingling  flashes. 
I  must  follow  them.  I  must  find  them.  I 
woke  Sanchicho,  and  fired  him  with  my  own 
fury  belike,  and  we  plunged  on  our  way  towards 
a  spot  where  he  thought  we  might  find  a  canoe. 
I  remember  now  that  all  around  us  in  the  moon 
light  lay  some  strange  old  ruins,  the  remnant  of 
a  city,  may  be,  whose  people  had  blown  to  dust 
ages  gone,  —  a  mighty  staircase  that  led  the  way 
to  some  altar  just  underneath  the  stars,  a  tower, 
a  doorway,  half  guessed  in  the  wild  growth  that 
had  taken  possession  of  them,  the  fig  and  caper 
growing  from  the  clefts,  the  cactus  uncouth  as 
idols,  and  all  like  the  phantom  of  a  place,  a  night 
mare  dream  of  ruins  rather  than  ruins  indeed. 
But,  although  we  sheltered  ourselves  in  a  vacant 
chamber  from  the  tempest  that  burst  before  morn 
ing  with  wind  and  rain,  I  did  not  look  twice  at  it 


THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  101 

then.  I  was  ruined ;  my  good  name  was  gone ; 
I  must  be  after  it.  As  well  chase  a  bubble  on 
the  Chagres  Eiver!  By  noon  the  third  day  we 
found  a  boat  at  the  camp  of  some  mahogany 
cutters,  and,  Sanchicho  steering,  we  fled  along. 
There  was  a  freshet  in  the  river  from  the  rains 
of  the  swift  night-storm ;  the  current  was  tremen 
dous,  and  carried  us  between  mountain- walls  and 
under  forest-tangles,  as  it  carried  all  the  drift  it 
brought  down,  rafts  of  boughs  and  underbrush 
knotted  with  vines  growing  and  blossoming,  here 
a  macaw  still  on  her  nest  in  the  hollow  stem,  or 
here  a  frightened  marmoset.  We  penetrated  a 
canon,  where  a  mountain  had  been  split  to  let  the 
river  through.  The  rock  went  up  into  the  mid- 
sky,  sheer  precipice  on  either  side ;  the  water 
slipped  on  like  oil,  still,  black,  awful.  Just 
before  us,  and  just  over  the  water,  all  the  way, 
flattered  a  fleet  of  butterflies,  silver-blue  and  rose 
and  olive,  a  swarm  of  them  like  flying  flowers. 
There  were  some  rapids.  And  all  at  once  we 
were  out  in  a  broad  bay  of  the  river  under  the 
noon  sky,  among  palms  feathering  off  in  sunshine, 
along  the  shore,  above  the  wild  citron-trees  and 


102  THE   MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS. 

thickets  of  blue  and  scarlet  passion-flowers,  birds 
flashing  like  flames  between  blossoms  that  looked 
like  birds  themselves,  sweet  scents  floating  from 
every  leaf,  parrots  and  monkeys  chattering  on  the 
boughs,  snakes  twining  and  glittering  in  the  sun 
like  a  mailed  work  of  jewels,  and  the  water  an 
enamel  of  blue  and  silver,  such  overflowing  life 
and  beauty  as  if  the  Maker  of  it  had  given  way 
to  sun  and  earth  and  water  to  see  what  they 
could  do.  In  the  vast  sky  above  a  buzzard 
floated  with  his  balanced  wings  in  that  flight  finer 
than  that  of  any  other  bird  of  the  air,  as  if  he 
were  a  part  of  the  great  motionless  heaven.  And 
suddenly  an  eddy  snatched  the  boat  and  swirled 
us  up  against  a  huge  uprooted  ceiba-tree  floating 
down  the  stream,  its  branches  half  veiled  with 
the  black  funereal  moss  that  trailed  after  it  through 
the  water,  and  twisted  in  and  out  with  the  white 
flowers  of  the  vanilla  vine.  Scared  by  our  com 
ing,  three  filthy  buzzards  rose  into  the  air.  And 
I  saw  then  the  sight  that  curdled  my  blood  as 
never  before.  They  rose  from  three  corpses,  — 
three  corpses  caught  in  the  branches,  stripped 
and  torn  and  reeking  in  the  sun.  The  bolt  had 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS.        103 

fallen  with  the  lightning.  They  were  the  corpses 
of  the  men  that  robbed  me." 

"  And  did  you  get  your  money  back  ? "  asked 
Allia  presently,  as  the  Captain,  still  shuddering 
with  the  memory,  paused. 

"  Oh,  no.  And  I  was  reckless.  I  never  went 
back  myself  till  I  had  made  the  money  in  other 
ways,  and  paid  the  last  real  of  it.  Do  you  think 
I  would  not  have  paid  that  money  ?  Not  if  I 
had  had  to  sell  my  soul  fox  it  —  as  it  may  be 
I  did,"  the  Captain  added  half  under  his  breath. 

Perhaps  Adelaide  heard  him,  though,  for  she 
put  out  her  hand  and  let  it  rest  a  moment  on  his 
where  they  clasped  the  cane,  —  her  hand  that  was 
not  trembling  simply  because  the  Captain  had  en 
deavored  to  divert  attention  from  Dominique. 

"  It  was  an  experience,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Grey. 
"And  what  opportunity  for  study  of  fauna  and 
flora,  if  you  had  taken  advantage  of  it.  It  is  a 
pity,  certainly,  that  you  made  no  more  note  of 
those  ruins  that  moonlight  night.  Very  probably 
the  ruins  that 'are  searched  for  now — " 

"  The  mystery  of  reverend  eld  searched  by 
babes  !  "  cried  Dominique.  "  I  have  been  talking 


104  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

of  joining  a  party  in  the  search  myself.  Odd  if 
I  should  be  treading  your  old  hunting-ground, 
father.  The  thought  of  it  stirs  my  heart  as  if  I 
were  the  child  of  some  of  those  early  Spanish 
conquistadores,  and  had  their  blood  beating  out 
their  old  sensations  in  my  veins,  — 

'  Cortes  and  his  men 
Silent  upon  a  peak  of  Darien.' 

I  know  just  how  it  seemed  to  them  when  first 
they  saw  those  ruins,  overgrown  then  for  ages, 
lifting  those  altars  built  on  flames,  those  statues 
gigantic  and  grotesque,  those  vast  communal 
chambers,  into  the  breathless  blaze  of  that  burn 
ing  blue.  It  could  not  have  seemed  to  them 
that  they  were  on  this  planet,  with  the  pleas 
ant  Spanish  land  behind  them,  the  Moorish 
arch  and  fountain;  they  were  in  the  bright  and 
dark  spots  of  the  moon  itself.  And  what  race  of 
giants  was  this  that  could  build  and  disappear 
and  leave  intact,  with  their  kinsfolk  of  the  casas 
grandes  up  in  the  wild  Apache  country,  with  their 
kinsfolk  clown  in  the  old  paved  roads  that  run 
across  the  South  Sea  Islands  and  that  no  man 
built,  with  the  tracks  they  left  of  a  civilization 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS.        105 

whose  aims,  I  fancy,  were  as  much  more  than 
ours  as  the  stars  are  more  than  star-dust,  —  a 
civilization  in  which  there  were  no  rich,  no  poor, 
no  laws  that  let  one  man  build  his  happy  fortunes 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  hapless  million,  that  make 
the  condition  of  crime  and  then  punish  the  crime ; 
but  where  the  common  interest  made  community, 
and  every  man  was  king  and  every  man  was 
commoner  1 " 

"  Pretty  civilization  that,  Dominique  ! "  said  his 
father.  "A  dea'd  level  of  mediocrity.  I  don't 
wonder  there  are  none  of  them  left.  Such  a  race 
would  wither  of  too  much  sunshine,  like  grass  on 
the  steppes.  You  want  your  big  stems  for  shade 
and  shelter  to  the  undergrowth  that  will  bring  up 
big  stems  in  its  turn.  A  civilization  of  equality 
is  not  only  government  by  the  mob,  but  it  is  the 
creation  of  dwarfs.  You  want  great  men,  men 
of  original  conception,  of  enterprises,  of  achieve 
ment,  to  span  rivers,  to  develop  continents,  to 
undermine  oceans,  to  finish  the  earth;  men  of 
individual  wealth  to  show  what  can  be  done  with 
wealth,  to  bring  art  to  its  glory,  to  make  life 
endurable  to  those  that  have  not  the  force  to 


106  THE  MAKQTJIS  OF  CARABAS. 

make  it  so  for  themselves,  for  there  will  always 
be  the  weak  stems.  You  want  men  to  rule,  and 
men  to  obey ;  the  most  of  us  are  only  made  to 
obey  —  " 

"I  deny  it!"  cried  Dominique.  "All  that 
comes  from  the  religious  system,  this  worship  of 
colossal  superiority  on  a  throne  that  gives  pres 
tige  to  all  other  thrones.  These  gods,  these 
entities,  are  great  to  us  because  we  look  up  to 
them  from  our  knees.  Let  us  rise !  We  are  the 
gods,  and  there  are  no  other!" 

"Dominique!"  cried  Miss  Grey. 

"  He  loves  to  hear  himself  talk,"  said  the  Cap 
tain.  "  Some  time  he  will  see  that  the  universe 
is  governed,  will  see  the  glory  of  leadership,  the 
virtue  of  loyalty.  Community  and  equality  are 
pretty  terms  of  poetry,  but  power  is  poetry  itself. 
A  man  of  power  is  a  vicegerent  of  the  law  by 
which  the  stars  move  in  their  courses.  A  man 
of  power,  even  of  irresponsible  power  —  " 

"Nero,  for  instance,"  said  Allia,  who  loved  a 
little  mischief. 

"  Nero ! "  cried  Dominique,  rising  on  one  arm, 
in  another  outburst  of  that  groundless  enthu- 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  107 

siasrn  which  walks  the  earth  without  touching 
it.  "  Nero !  I  suppose  you  mention  his  name 
as  a  reproach  to  power.  The  man  who  wears 
a  crown  of  thorns  through  history,  the  great 
imperial  martyr,  libelled  and  slandered  and  out 
raged,  '  the  focal  point  of  million-fingered  scorn.' 
Perhaps  he  had  the  vices  of  his  time,  but  who  else 
rose  above  the  level  of  that  time  with  his  great 
ness,  his  ideas,  his  energies  ?  The  fact  is,  he  was 
a  Greek  by  nature ;  art  appealed  to  him,  music, 
painting,  the  drama.  The  old  Eoman  was  in  an 
tagonism  to  all  that,  and  hated  him  for  it.  When 
they  reviled  him  for  inventing  his  h}rdraulic  organ, 
for  singing  to  his  lyre,  they  forgot  how  the  king's 
messengers,  seeking  Achilles, 

'  Found  him  set, 

Delighted  with  his  solemn  harp,  which  curiously  was  fret 
With  works  conceited  through   the  verge  ;  the  bawdrick  that 

embraced 

His  lofty  neck  was  silver  twist ;  this,  when  his  hand  laid  waste 
Action's  city,  he  did  choose  as  his  especial  prize, 
And,  loving  sacred  music  well,  made  it  his  exercise  ! 

Well,  the  Greeks  themselves  did  not  revile 
him.  The  cities  of  Greece  sent  him  the  victor's 
crown  for  minstrelsy  and  song.  And  then  what 


108  THE  MARQUIS  OF   C  ARAB  AS. 

a  creature  of  splendor  he  was !  When  he  trav 
elled,  it  was  with  a  thousand  baggage- wagons,  his 
mules  shod  in  silver,  and  the  African  slaves,  their 
drivers,  clad  in  scarlet  and  bound  with  bracelets  of 
gold.  Yes,  he  had  ideas.  He  established  the  na 
tional  theatre  that  the  magistrate  might  not  ruin 
himself  for  the  people's  pleasure;  he  declared 
Greece  a  free  country  ;  he  projected  the  canal  be 
tween  the  Ionian  and  ^Egean  shores;  he  found 
Eome  a  city  of  alleys  and  wooden  hovels,  so  to 
say,  and  he  left  it  with  broad  thoroughfares,  gar 
dens,  and  palaces.  Granting  he  did  fire  Eome? 
It  was  but  to  rebuild  it  as  became  Eome.  He 
played  on  his  lyre  while  it  was  burning  ?  What 
else  should  he  have  done?  Eun  with  the  ma 
chine  ?  I  notice  that  he  opened  his  own  imperial 
gardens  to  the  houseless,  that  he  lost  his  own  pal 
ace,  that  he  paid  from  his  own  purse  for  porticos 
to  the  new  dwellings,  for  a  clear  space  of  ground 
round  every  house,  that  he  gave  rewards  in  order 
to  hurry  the  work  of  reconstruction,  that  he  built 
on  stone  arches  to  do  away  with  the  use  of 
wood,  that  he  led  private  springs  into  a  public 
channel  for  a  reservoir  in  case  of  fire  again.  Did 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS.  109 

he  burn  the  city  for  the  sake  of  spending  that 
treasure  ?  But  he  did  worse  than  fire  Kome,  he 
polluted  the  head-waters  of  the  Martian  aqueduct. 
Ah,  what  a  wretch  was  that,  to  take  a  bath  in  a 
frolic  !  Did  he  have  Agrippina,  his  vile  mother, 
killed  ?  And  none  too  soon,  if  he  did.  But  Brutus 
had  his  two  sons  killed,  and  you  make  a  demigod 
of  Brutus.  Yet,  when  Nero's  little  daughter  was 
born,  his  happiness  was  beyond  all  mortal  joy ;  his 
sorrow  was  as  great  when  she  died.  It  was  a  ser 
vile  senate,  not  he,  that  translated  her  to  the  stars. 
He  persecuted  the  Christians,  as  Paul  did  when 
he  was  Saul,  because  he  thought  it  right  to  perse 
cute  Christians.  The  Christians  have  persecuted 
him  ever  since.  And  who  tells  all  these  iniqui 
ties  of  him  ?  A  hard  old  Eoman  called  Tacitus, 
who  says  of  these  same  Christians,  that  they  were 
'  a  band  of  men  detested  for  their  evil  practices;' 
and  one  story  may  be  as  true  as  the  other.  '  My 
friends  desert  me/  he  cried  when  he  came  to  die, 
'  and  I  cannot  find  an  enemy  ! '  And  he  was  nothing 
but  a  boy,  when  all  is  said.  Gossip  and  slander 
have  ruled  the  world  from  of  old.  0  Fame,  you 
fickle  jade  !  0  History,  you  lying  tongue !  You 


110        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

never  did  fouler  wrong  than  when  you  painted 
Nero,  the  child  of  art  and  song  and  splendor,  as  a 
monster ! "  And  all  at  once  Dominique  rose  to 
his  feet  and  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  What  an  excitable  boy ! "  said  Mrs.  Stuart. 
"  He  is  always  so  full  of  his  fancies." 

"But  he  builds  on  such  reprehensible  premises," 
said  Miss  Grey.  "  It  is  surely  the  result  of  no 
teaching  of  mine." 

Neither  Miss  Grey  nor  Mrs.  Stuart  saw  that, 
although  with  no  unsteadiness  of  gait,  yet  he 
walked  on  tiptoe.  But  Adelaide  saw  it,  as  she 
sat  with  her  head  downcast  and  her  heart  flut 
tering  like  a  leaf  in  her  stone-cold  breast.  And 
Captain  Dacre  rose  with  some  hurry  in  his  old- 
fashioned  and  rather  stately  adieux,  and  hastened 
after  his  son. 

"  '  I  am  na  fou,.  I  'm  na  that  fou, 
But  just  a  wee  drap  in  my  ee,'  " 

sang  Allia.  "Very  well,"  she  said  in  an  undertone. 
"  If  it  was  the  Lieutenant,  just  a  little  exalted, 
behaving  in  that  style  and  talking  in  that  style,  I 
never  should  hear  the  last  of  it.  There  would  n't 
be  enough  to  say  about  it." 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  Ill 

"  Are  n't  you  fond  of  Dominique,  Allia  ? "  asked 
Adelaide. 

"  Of  course  I  am.     But  —  " 

"  Those  that  we  are  fond  of  we  must  take  as  they 
are,  and  make  the  most  of  them.  The  leopard 
cannot  change  his  spots.  At  any  rate,  we  cannot 
say  that  Dominique  has  practised  a  deceit  upon 
us.  We  accept  him  with  our  eyes  open  —  oh,  we 
have  no  choice  about  it,  he  is  a  part  of  our  lives ! 
And,  Allia,  you  see  he  needs  us  all  the  more." 

It  was  one  fresh  spring  morning,  when  all  the 
air  was  sweet  with  growing  grass,  with  budding 
branches,  and  with  the  clean  and  wholesome  scent 
of  upturned  furrows,  when  bees  were  humming 
and  birds  were  twittering,  and  the  world  seemed 
as  if  it  might  be  such  a  pleasant  world,  other 
things  agreeing,  that  Adelaide  saw  Dominique's 
boat  flying  over  the  water  on  its  sail.  She  had 
not  known  he  was  at  home  again,  and  she  caught 
up  her  hat  and  shawl  and  ran  down  through  the 
terraces  of  the  garden  to  meet  him  on  the  shore. 

He  leaped  out,  as  the  prow  ran  up  the  pebbles, 
only  to  take  her  hand  and  half  draw,  half  lift  her 
into  the  boat.  Then  he  sprang  in  again,  pushed 


112  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

off  with  an  oar  and  trimmed  his  sail,  and  they 
were  sweeping  away  before  the  gentle  land-breeze, 
bowing  and  clipping  from  one  soft  long  swell  to 
the  next,  till  only  the  salt  breath  of  the  outer  sea 
blew  about  them,  and  the  land  was  far  behind, 
before  he  spoke  again  after  his  first  glad  cry  of 
"Adelaide!" 

"Well,  Dominique,"  she  said  at  last,  tired  of 
waiting,  "  is  it  some  trouble  ?  Am  I  to  help  you  ? 
Can  I  ?  Have  you  come  to  tell  me  ? " 

"Wait!  wait!"  he  cried.  "You  will  hear  it 
soon  enough  —  soon  enough  !  "  And  on  they 
sailed. 

"It  pains  you  so,  let  me  have  my  half  of  it," 
she  urged  again  with  the  smile  which  was  only 
like  pale  sunshine  over  rain. 

"  O  my  God ! "  he  answered  her  then.  "  You 
shall  have  it.  I  will  not  spare  you  pain.  I  am 
disgraced !  I  am  expelled  from  my  class  in  dis 
honor  !  I  have  my  choice  to  leave,  or  to  be  thrust 
out  and  the  tale  of  my  misdeeds  laid  before  my 
father  !  And  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  cannot  face  him. 
I  cannot  see  him  take  his  death- wound.  I  am 
going  away.  That  will  give  him  another  thought. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  113 

I  am  going  away ;  none  will  ever  see  me  again  till 
I  can  look  them  in  the  face ! " 

"  You  are  going  away  !  " 

"  Out  into  the  outer  world ;  to  retrieve  myself, 
Adelaide,  or  to  die.  When  I  come  back  it  will 
be  because  I  am  sure  of  myself." 

"0  Dominique,  that  is  noway!  Stay  here  — 
stay  with  us  ! " 

"  Impossible.  It  is  a  terrible  nightmare !  I 
must  wake  from  it ;  I  must  get  so  far  away  that 
I  cannot  dream  the  evil  thing  again.  I  must  go. 
But,  Adelaide,  I  must  have  one  hope  in  the  world, 
one  anchor ! "  He  looked  at  her  with  wild,  eager, 
questioning  eyes.  Was  he  absolutely  sure  of  this 
love  that  had  never  been  spoken  plainly  between 
them,  that  had  perhaps  seemed  to  them  too  sacred 
to  trifle  with,  too  natural  to  doubt  ?  Would  she 
save  him?  Would  she  destroy  him  utterly?  "Oh, 
how  can  I  look  in  your  dear  sweet  eyes,"  he  cried, 
"  when  I  cannot  look  in  his  ?  Adelaide,  I  must 
leave  my  wife  behind  me." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  "  You  will,"  said 
Adelaide  then  simply.  "  I  am  your  wife  for  ever 
and  ever." 

8 


114  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

"Ah,  I  know,"  he  said  impatiently.  "But  I  am 
so  vile  myself  I  distrust  everybody.  I  distrust 
you.  I  cannot  tell  what  may  happen.  It  must 
be  my  wife  by  law  that  I  leave." 

"  Dominique  ! " 

"  Yes,  Adelaide.  And  it  is  easy  enough.  The 
Cape  is  just  under  our  lee.  We  will  shape  our 
course  for  that.  We  will  find  our  license  and  a 
minister,  and  no  one  shall  be  the  wiser  till  I  come 
back  to  claim  you." 

"  0  Dominique !    It  is  not  to  be  thought  of ! " 

"  It  is  to  be  done  ! "  he  cried. 

"  Dominique,  you  would  not  care  to  come  back 
to  the  woman  who  could  marry  you  in  secrecy  and 
shadow." 

"Care!" 

"It  is  not  right.  I  should  be  living  a  falsehood. 
I  should  be  deceiving  my  mother  and  your  father." 

She  was  so  heavenly  in  her  grave  and  stately 
innocence,  surveying  him  with  the  level  gaze  of 
her  shining  eye,  the  white  sail  behind  her,  the 
blue  sky  above  her,  ringed  by  the  purple  sea,  so 
sweet,  so  pure,  so  lofty,  his  heart  stood  still  to 
think  he  might  possibly  have  lost  this  too. 


THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  115 

• 

"  And  if  you  do  not,"  he  avowed,  "  I  shall  not 
be  living  at  all.  Look  how  black  the  depths 
below  us  are  !  You  will  give  me  your  promise 
here  and  now,  or  I  will  slip  over  the  boat  side  and 
down  into  the  deepest  and  blackest  of  them,  and 
so  £nd  the  whole  matter.  Quite  likely  the  best 
ending  it  could  have  for  you." 

"  0  Dominique  I "  she  cried,  the  tears  starting ; 
"  I  love  you.  I  want  you  to  be  happy.  But  this 
will  make  me  miserable." 

"  It  is  my  province  to  make  people  miserable. 
You  will  be  more  so,  perhaps,  when  the  water  rolls 
over  me  till  the  sea  gives  up  its  dead.  And  that? 
by  Heaven,  it  shall  do,  unless  I  have  your  word  ! " 
And  he  waited,  leaning  forward,  all  determination, 
all  tenderness,  naming  from  his  dark  eyes  and  pale 
face,  the  impersonation  of  impassioned  splendor. 
"You  have  yielded,"  he  said  presently.  "I  see 
you  have.  0  Adelaide,  my  darling,  my  darling, 
if  there  is  any  strength  in  me  you  shall  be  glad  of 
it.  And  if  there  is  none,  why  then  —  you  and  I 
were  one  when  first  we  saw  each  other  —  our  fates 
were  cast  together.  It  is  not  that  I  ask  so  much 
of  you  —  we  cannot  help  ourselves.  And  you 


116  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

shall  not  be  what  I  am,   but   I   will  mount   to 

you." 

An  hour's  swift,  silent  sailing,  before  they 
threaded  the  fleet  of  anchored  fishing  boats  and 
touched  the  Cape.  A  hurried  walk  to  the  town 
hall  for  the  license,  Adelaide  hesitating,  tearful, 
voiceless.  A  search  for  the  clergyman,  that 
scorched  her  with  a  sort  of  shame.  Then  the 
brief  service,  as  hurried  a  return  to  the  boat,  and 
the  sail  set  for  Coastcliff  again. 

"  You  are  my  wife/'  said  Dominique,  with  some 
thing  of  the  old  spirit  flashing  up ;  "  and  them 
that  God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put 
asunder,  nor  no  woman  either.  Don't  think  that 
I  shall  not  come  back  to  you.  that  you  shall  not 
be  proud  of  me  yet!  When  I  am  master  of  a 
Cuuarder  —  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  sea,  Dominique  ? " 

"  No  matter  where  I  am  going." 

"  But  I  have  a  right  to  know,  have  I  not  ? "  she 
urged,  the  smile  glancing  on  the  tears. 

"Well;  the  sea  is  a  great  country,  and  no 
man  has  a  fee  in  it.  There  are  things  to 
do  upon  the  sea  just  as  much  as  on  the  land. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAKABAS.        117 

There  are  fame  and  fortune  and  service  there, 
too. 

'  It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  Happy  Isles, 
And  see  the  great  Achilles  whom  we  knew, 
It  may  be  that  the  gulfs  will  wash  us  down.' 

You  shall  hear  from  me  in  ways  that  you  will 
understand.  As  for  you,  I  must  take  you  on  trust. 
I  was  wrong  —  I  do  believe  in  one  thing  yet.  I 
believe  in  you,  Adelaide." 

The  wind  had  changed  and  was  coming  briskly, 
as  May  winds  will,  a  baffling  wind  that  seemed  to 
blow  from  all  quarters  before  it  blew  out  of  the 
thunder-cloud;  the  sea  was  rising.  Dominique 
had  all  he  could  do  to  manage  the  cockle-shell  of 
a  boat  in  the  cross-seas  ;  sunset  heaped  the  thun 
der-clouds  with  flames  before  them  and  faded  to  a 
glow  through  which  the  stars  were  gleaming,  ere 
they  touched  the  place  whence  they  had  started. 
Tired  and  wet  and  hungry,  but  ignorant  of  any  of 
it,  they  went  up  from  the  shore;  and  as  they 
parted  in  the  dark  and  dew,  for  one  moment  Domi 
nique's  arms  were  about  his  wife,  and  the  first  kiss 
of  her  lover's  was  her  husband's. 


118        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 


XII. 

GASCOYGNE  drove  Adelaide  over  to  the  Lonely 
Beach. 

"  Take  a  furred  wrap,  Adelaide/'  said  Mrs.  Stuart. 
"  This  spring  wind  is  too  fresh." 

"  I  will  not  let  the  wind  visit  her  too  roughly," 
said  Gascoygne. 

It  looked  lonelier  than  ever  there  as  they  drove 
up,  with  nothing  but  the  snow  bloom  of  the  old 
plum  orchard  behind  the  house,  like  a  flight  of 
the  breaker's  foam,  with  the  sunlight  gilding  the 
purple  sweep  of  the  farther  sea,  the  beach  grass 
just  springing,  and  not  a  soul  and  not  a  sail  in 
sight. 

His  man  had  brought  the  morning  paper,  and 
the  Captain  sat  with  it  by  the  fire  that  seldom 
went  out  at  the  Lonely  Beach,  but  he  was  not  read 
ing  it.  He  roused  himself  at  the  sound  of  their 
footsteps  and  voices.  An  open  letter  had  fallen 
beside  him.  "From  Dominique,"  he  said.  "He 


THE   MAHQUIS   OF  CAKABAS.  119 

has  told  me  of  his  failure.  Ah,  my  God !  I  have 
nothing  left  to  live  for  !  And  he  has  gone ! " 

"  He  will  come  back,"  said  Adelaide. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Captain.  "If  he 
could  go  away.  Why  should  he  ?  What  have  I 
done  to  him  that  he  should  desert  me  ?  What  is 
there  for  him  to  come  back  to  ?  " 

"  His  father,"  said  Adelaide,  kneeling  beside  his 
chair  and  putting  her  arms  round  the  old  man's 
neck,  while  Gascoygne  picked  up  the  paper  and 
walked  to  the  window.  "  And  his  wife." 

"  Adelaide  ! "  springing  up.  "  Has  he  added 
that  to  the  rest?" 

"  Is  it  such  an  enormity  ? "  she  asked,  forcing  a 
smile  for  his  sake. 

"  And  when  ?  "  he  gasped. 

"  We  were  married  yesterday,"  she  said.  "  No 
one  is  to  know  it  but  Gascoygne  and  yourself. 
Heaven  overlook  the  hiding  it  from  my  good 
mother  ! "  she  exclaimed,  turning  impetuously  to 
Gascoygne. 

"  But  you  know  very  well,"  answered  Gas 
coygne,  who  always  brought  the  comfort  of  an 
every-day  view  of  things,  "  that  my  cousin  could 


120  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CAR  ABAS. 

never  keep  the  secret  alone.  She  would  have  to 
let  all  the  ladies  of  the  Confederated  Charities 
help  her."  And  then  he  left  them  together. 

"That  it  should  come  in  this  way,"  cried  the 
Captain,  "  the  desire  of  my  heart !  I  had  no  right 
to,  but  I  dreamed  it,  I  hoped  for  it.  But  not 
this  way,  not  in  the  dark,"  he  said,  "  not  with  my 
boy  ruined,  not  wishing  that  I  might  have  died 
before  the  day  ! " 

"  My  father,"  said  Adelaide  then,  "  you  have 
something  more  to  live  for  now  than  you  had  be 
fore.  You  have  your  daughter." 

"I  don't  deserve  her  —  oh,  I  don't  deserve  her!" 
sobbed  Captain  Dacre,  sinking  into  his  chair  again. 
"I  have  only  brought  the  sweet  thing  trouble. 
Adelaide,  my  child,  you  must  forgive  me  for  the 
wrong  I  have  done  you  —  " 

"  Forgive  you  for  giving  me  my  husband  !  "  she 
cried,  standing  before  him  in  all  the  stature  of  a 
woman.  "  Don't  think  I  value  him  less  because 
he  is  not  as  strong  as  an  archangel.  If  he  were 
different  he  would  not  be  Dominique.  And  it  is 
Dominique  that  I  love,"  she  said,  the  blush  kind 
ling  all  her  beauty  freshly. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  121 

"  My  dear  girl ! " 

"  And  as  for  you,  you  must  come  away  from 
here.  This  loneliness  is  killing  you.  Gascoygne 
says  there  is  nothing  worse  for  the  nerves.  You 
must  come  over  to  the  cottage  and  help  us  make 
cheer.  He  will  come  back.  I  have  faith,  I  have 
perfect  faith  in  Dominique." 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Dacre.  "  If  he  comes  back, 
he  will  come  back  here.  I  will  keep  his  home 
open  and  ready  for  him.  You  will  be  on  the  hill, 
I  will  be  here.  Only  remember,  Adelaide,  it  is 
your  home  here  too,  whenever  you  will."  And 
then  they  went  out  to  Gascoygne  in  the  plum 
orchard,  where  the  bluebirds  were  busy,  and 
looked  at  the  springing  green  things,  whose  seeds 
had  come  from  the  gardens  of  the  Coastcliff  cot 
tage,  and  that  by  and  by  would  be  massed  in 
splendid  colors,  walked  down  the  turfy  slope  that 
it  cost  the  Captain  such  pains  to  keep  green  and 
glear  of  the  blowing  sand,  and  paced  to  and  fro  by 
the  margin,  hiding  their  forebodings  in  happy 
plans  for  the  future,  till  the  horse  came  round. 
"  Now,  remember,"  said  Adelaide,  "  I  come  over 
one  day,  and  you  return  my  visit  the  next  of  every 
day  we  live  !  " 


122  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

"  You  have  given  him  something  else  to  think 
of,"  said  Gascoygne,  as  they  crossed  the  causeway. 
'''And  now,  with  his  plants  to  watch  between 
whiles,  he  will  live  on  his  hopes.  Too  stimulating 
diet,  however,  like  too  much  ammonia  for  his 
flowers." 

"I  wonder  why  his  flowers  are  of  so  much 
deeper  color  than  ours,"  s"aid  Adelaide.  "  I  sup 
pose  it  is  the  salter  air ;  although  the  Lieutenant 
said  they  drew  their  richness  from  the  grave  of 
some  old  buccaneer  buried  there  at  the  foot  of  the 
orchard,  he  doubted.  Do  you  recollect  Allia's 
dancing  there  in  the  flowers  and  the  sun  last  sum 
mer,  as  he  was  saying  it  ?  He  shivered,  and  .when 
you  asked  him  why,  gave  a  shrug  and  said  —  it  was 
only  the  old  woman's  tale  —  some  one  was  dan 
cing  on  his  grave.  I  would  n't  have  thought  it  of 
the  Lieutenant,  would  you  ?"  said  Adelaide,  looking 
at  Gascoygne.  And  the  light  in  her  glance  and 
the  laugh  in  her  voice  told  how  sure  she  was  her 
self  of  Dominique's  escape  from  the  man's  grasp. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.        123 


XIII. 

IT  was  a  long  month  in  that  slow  spring, —  a 
long  month  without  a  word  from  Dominique.  Ade 
laide,  standing  where  the  blush  roses  were  now  in 
bloom,  had,  on  many  an  evening  of  it,  looked  out 
across  the  sea  beneath,  and  wondered  if  she  were 
the  same  girl  who  stood  there  once  and  said  she 
hated  death  and  would  like  this  life  to  last  for 
ever.  Now,  opening  her  eyes  on  the  morning 
light,  that  heavy  load  upon  her  heart,  she  had 
thought  that  an  unending  sleep  would  be  better 
than  her  waking.  And  then  one  day  had  come  a 
dateless  telegram,  without  signature,  from  she 
knew  not  where :  "  The  Poet's  Book.  Marked 
passage.  Page  three  hundred  and  twenty-five." 
And  she  had  hastened  to  take  from  the  shelf 
the  book  they  knew  by  that  name,  the  old  "  Thou 
sand  Nights  and  One  Night,"  that  had  once 
belonged  to  a  poet,  had  been  marked  and  re-marked 
by  his  hand,  and  had  been  sold  with  his  library,  — 


124  THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

a  book  over  which  they  two  had  often  lingered,  for 
its  flavor,  fuller  than  any  other  of  oriental  life,  for 
the  palms  and  pomegranates  and  jasmines  and 
quinces,  among  which,  as  they  read,  they  could 
hear  "the  stream  in  murmuring  ripple,  and  the 
birds  confusedly  warbling,  and  the  wind  with  rust 
ling  gush  tempering  the  world  to  quiet,"  for  the 
music  of  its  songs  and  the  poetry  of  its  pages. 
"What  memories  the  yellow-leaved  book  recalled ; 
and  Dominique  must  have  known  it  would.  This 
was  the  leaf  they  turned  together  as  the  book  lay 
on  the  old  blossoming  stone-wall  in  the  sun,  and  a 
bee  walked  across  the  page  as  if  looking  for  its 
honey.  On  this  was  pictured  the  bride  of  flexile 
grace,  in  her  gown  of  green,  with  whom  Domi 
nique  had  compared  her  as  he  read  here  and  there 
skippingly,  who  "  showed  in  her  straightness  the 
blade  of  standing  wheat."  Her  hand  trembled  so 
that  the  book  all  but  fell  as  she  fluttered  the  pages 
for  that  passage  which  Dominique,  in  a  fashion  that 
he  had,  had  from  time  to  time  taken  down  with 
others  in  his  pocket  note-book.  "  Five  things,"  she 
read,  "  were  at  once  heaped  on  him :  love  and  beg 
gary  and  hunger  and  nakedness  and  toil ;  and  nev- 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  125 

ertheless  he  straightened  his  soul  to  endure."  And 
if  the  page  was  blistered  with  her  uncontrollable 
tears,  she  also,  because  Dominique  had  done  so, 
straightened  her  soul  to  endure.  And  then  again 
there  were  months  of  silence,  in  which  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  her  heart  and  her  hair  should  grow  gray 
together,  till,  with  the  snow,  came  another  mes 
sage  :  "  The  same.  Page  two  hundred  and  two." 
And  when  she  had  found  this  and  read  :  — 

"  Oh,  thou  art  one  whose  pleasure,  when  't  is  spoken, 
Makes  the  world  dance  and  Fortune  clap  her  hands," 

she  understood,  with  but  little  thinking,  that  Dom 
inique  had  fallen  in  with  some  portion  of  the  good 
luck  it  would  be  her  "  pleasure  "  he  should  have, 
and  a  weight  of  anxious  sorrow  and  yearning  pity 
fell  away  from  her  sensations.  She  trusted  Domi 
nique's  own  nature  for  the  rest,  and  waited. 

She  waited  a  long  while.  It  was  on  the  return 
of  her  wedding-day  that  a  third  message  came, 
this  time  by  cable :  "  Second  Chronicles,  ninth, 
twenty-first."  Which,  being  interpreted,  she  found 
to  read  :  "  For  the  king's  ships  went  to  Tarshish 
with  the  servants  of  Huram:  every  three  years 
came  the  ships  of  Tarshish  bringing  gold  and 


126  THE  MAKQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

silver,  ivory  and  apes  and  peacocks."  This,  then, 
told  her  all  she  ought  to  hope  to  know,  perhaps. 
That  he  was  enduring,  that  he  had  found  good 
fortune,  that  he  was  following  the  sea  on  long 
voyages,  that  he  was  in  port  somewhere  on  the 
other  hemisphere.  Doubtless  she  could  have 
traced  his  whereabouts ;  but  what  he  did  not 
choose  to  say  she  would  not  guess.  The  message 
meant  a  great  deal  more  to  her  than  many  a 
longer  one  might.  She  knew  that  Dominique  had 
called  back,  in  indicating  it,  and  wished  her  also 
to  recall  it,  the.  happy  autumn  day  when  they 
read  ancient  history  and  puzzled  over  Tarshish, 
and  he  had  drawn  a  long  tress  of  her  fallen 
fragrant  hair  across  his  lips,  with  a  glance  half 
timid,  half  defiant,  and  then  a  laugh  that  hid  the 
passion  of  the  kiss  he  gave  it,  while  he  held  it  up 
and  apostrophized  it :  — 

" '  And  I  have  sworn  thee  fair,  and  thought  thee  bright, 
"Who  art  as  black  as  hell,  as  dark  as  night.' 

Adelaide,  how  black  your  hair  is  !  It  is  like  the 
hair  of  those  Arabian  girls  in  our  poet's  book, 
that  was  so  dark  it  made  a  glory  of  their  brows. 
And  then  your  eyes  are  so  blue  !  To  think  this 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.        127 

hair  is  nothing  but  a  thread  of  silk ;  but  if  I  were 
as  far  away  as  a  fixed  star,  it  would  have  power  to 
draw  me  back  ! "  There  had  often  been  an  echo  of 
raillery  in  such  by-play ;  now  she  might  know 
how  real  it  had  been  to  him  all  the  time. 

She  would  have  liked  to  keep  this  last  message 
to  herself  awhile,  if  it  had  not  been  her  wedding- 
day.  As  it  was,  she  went  over  to  find  the  Cap 
tain  and  a  Bible  and  read  it  to  him. 

"  Great  heavens  !  "  said  the  Captain.  "  Gold 
and  ivory  and  apes  !  Is  there  a  fate  in  it  ?  Can't 
he  escape  it  ?  Does  he  mean  that  he  has  gone 
into  the  slave  trade  ? " 

"I  think  you  are  possessed,"  said  Adelaide. 
"  Why  must  you  needs  imagine  evil  when  he  has 
told  us  that  he  straightened  his  soul  to  endure  ? 
He  is  on  an  Indiaman.  When  he  commands  her 
he  will  come  to  us.  Then  by  his  own  efforts  he 
will  have  retrieved  himself.  He  is  alive ;  he  is 
doing  well ;  I  feel  as  if  he  were  almost  here. 
And  I  have  brought  this  to  show  you,  too.  Gas- 
coygne  did  it  for  me.  Does  it  not  startle  you  and 
fill  your  soul  with  joy  ?  " 

It  was  a  likeness  of  Dominique,  that  she  had 


123  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS. 

asked  Gascoygne  to  make  —  his  gift  of  portraiture 
answering  for  the  first  sketch,  if  no  more.  She 
had  not  known  what  it  was  she  asked  of  him,  nor 
what  sacrificial  fervor  Gascoygne  had  struck  into 
those  lines  that  gave  back  the  white  light  of  the 
brow,  the  glow  of  the  dark  eyes,  now  so  tender  in 
their  downcast  gleam  beneath  long  lashes  like  a 
girl's,  now  so  ardent,  the  high  beauty  of  the  smile, 
the  whole  starry  strength  of  the  face.  Perhaps 
Gascoygne  gave  to  the  thing  some  of  the  nobility 
of  his  own  abnegation ;  there  was  no  abnegation 
about  Dominique,  for  had  he  known  of  Gas- 
coygne's  mind  he  would  only  have  said,  "  I  can 
not  give  her  up.  You  can.  I  love  her  best ! " 

But  the  Captain  turned  the  picture  on  its  face. 
"  I  must  not  let  him  beguile  the  good  faith  out  of 
me  with  his  eyes,"  he  said.  "  You  feel  as  though 
he  were  almost  here  ?  I  don't  know  —  I  don't 
know,"  he  said  gloomily.  "  I  only  know  this, 
Adelaide,  that  before  he  wins  you  he  must  de 
serve  you,  or  I  will  break  the  bonds,  as  I  can.  I 
will  not  be  a  party  to  the  crime." 

"What  crime  is  that?  "said  a  smooth  voice  in 
the  doorway. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  129 

"One,  Mr.  Ladeuce,"  said  Adelaide,  as  slie 
turned  and  perceived  him,  "  with  whose  commis 
sion,  singular  as  that  may  seeni  to  you,  you  have 
no  concern." 


130  "THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAKABAS. 


XIV. 

LADEUCE  had  returned  some  time  since,  but  had 
kept  rather  quiet.  As  he  had  once  before  told  the 
Captain  that  he  came  to  help  him  bring  up  Domi 
nique,  now  he  said  he  had  come  to  help  him  find 
him. 

"  I  am  not  looking  for  him,"  said  the  Captain. 

Nevertheless,  he  stayed.  Here  he  might  find 
some  clue  to  Dominique ;  elsewhere  it  would  be 
difficult,  if  not  impossible.  "To  tell  you  the 
truth,"  he  said,  "  it  is  as  much  your  Gascoygne, 
yonder,  as  Dominique  that  I  want.  That  little 
irregularity  of  the  heart  has  become  troublesome 
again." 

"  A  heart,"  said  Captain  Dacre,  "  as  hard  as  the 
nether  millstone  must  be  out  of  order,  indeed,  to 
make  you  aware  of  its  existence." 

Bitter  as  the  loneliness  was,  the  Captain  saw 
but  little  of  the  Lieutenant,  busy,  much  of  his 
time  in  the  laboratory,  trying  to  penetrate  the 


THE  MARQUIS  OF   CARABAS.  131 

fertilizing  secret  of  certain  phosphates  and  nitrates 
that  should  have  a  fortune  in  it,  and  so  let  the 
fortune  in  possession  go  whence  it  came.  It 
would  have  gone,  if  he  had  had  to  become  a  coal- 
heaver,  the  day  that  Dominique  went,  had  not  his 
yearning  for  his  son  made  it  imperative  to  keep 
house  and  home  and  all  as  before,  that  he  might 
some  day  revisit  it. 

Ladeuce  may  have  found  the  life  a  trifle  solitary, 
too ;  but  he  occupied  himself  as  formerly,  with  the 
fishermen  over  in  Coastcliff  town,  with  more  than 
one  run  out  to  sea  in  his  own  boat,  with  frequent 
visits  to  Allia,  who  welcomed  him  again  as  sun 
shine  from  the  outside  world  of  which  she  saw 
so  little,  save  for  some  seldom  flight  to  the  city  to 
make  demands  upon  her  other  trustees,  or  to  take 
an  afternoon  at  the  theatre.  "  You  are  as  fresh  as 
a  flower,"  said  Ladeuce,  who  had  that  voluptuous 
enjoyment  of  voluptuous  things  which  made  little 
Allia's  brown  and  scarlet  skin  give  him  a  portion 
of  the  same  pleasure  that  his  somewhat  cultivated 
senses  would  have  found  in  a  painting  by  Greuze. 
"  It  would  be  rare  to  take  you  out  and  show  you 
the  things  you  imagine.  And  I  might,  perhaps,  if 
I  were  not  old  enough  to  be  your  father." 


132  THE  MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS. 

"  I  don't  know  what  difference  that  need  make," 
pouted  Allia. 

When,  later,  the  Captain  muttered  to  Ladeuce 
something  about  his  waste  of  time  in  these  re 
gions,  "  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  Ladeuce  with  his  sweet 
low  laugh.  "  Could  I  spend  it  any  better  ?  When 
does  that  moon-eyed  heiress  on  the  hill,  the  little 
Allia,  come  to  her  majority  ?  I  may  double  my 
fortune  with  hers  and  let  the  Nighthird  go." 

But  Captain  Dacre  was  of  a  desperate  cast  in 
these  days.  He  thought  of  the  silly  little  beauty 
on  the  hill,  the  charge  of  that  woman  who  had 
been  his  best  friend  on  earth,  who  had  brought 
Adelaide  into  life  for  Dominique,  and  he  looked 
at  the  presentable  person  of  the  man  who,  to  a 
natural  external  polish,  had  added  some  of  the 
grace  that  comes  by  contact  with  people  of  grace, 
and  by  more  or  less  reading  of  books  off  watch 
and  on  shore.  "  Hark  ye,  Ladeuce,"  said  he,  in 
his  old  commanding  tones,  "not  another  word  of 
that,  or  we  turn  the  tables  and  it  is  I  that  will  de 
nounce  you  ! "  And  Ladeuce  sauntered  from  the 
room,  humming  the  refrain  of  a  tune  the  Captain 
had  heard  many  a  boatload  of  men  sing  in  the 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS.  133 

surf  of  Southern  shores.  "It  is  idle,  idle,  idle," 
groaned  the  Captain.  "  The  man  is  returning  me 
to  what  I  was  ! " 

But  Ladeuce  was  not  concerning  himself  about 
his  influence  upon  the  Captain ;  nor  did  he  intend 
his  stay  to  he  a  long  one,  when  he  should  have 
accomplished  his  purpose.  He  was  playing  for  a 
large  stake,  and  could  well  afford  to  let  the  Niglit- 
bird  make  her  voyages  without  him,  or  even  take 
a  pleasure  trip  about  the  world,  if  in  the  mean 
time  he  might  win,  and  so  become  the  benefactor 
and  treasurer  of  the  man  whom  he  should  lead 
into  fabulous  riches.  He  had  some  little  property 

of  his   own  —  not  much  —  he   had  been   a   free 

« 

spender ;  but  these  riches  were  hardly  less  than  the 
mines  of  Potosi,  and  they  meant  all  that  was  fair 
and  festive  in  his  fancy  ;  they  meant  escape  from 
danger  and  work  and  care,  as  from  the  dark  spec 
tres  of  forgotten  storms,  life  imder  southern  suns 
in  splendor  of  courts  and  palaces,  under  southern 
stars  in  myrtle  shadows.  Did  he  not  know  the 
joys  possible  to  these  young  European  nobles  of 
unbounded  wealth  ?  Had  he  not  heard  the  inex 
tinguishable  laughter  of  the  gods  ?  Had  he  not  seen 


134  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS. 

from  afar  their  villas  in  the  laurels  and  roses  of 
the  Mediterranean  shores,  music  and  flowers  and 
beauty  and  pleasure  from  morning  till  night,  from 
night  till  morning?  Did  it  not  mean  rank  and 
power,  unlimited  luxury  and  the  pride  of  the  flesh  ? 
"  I  shall  not  be  the  Marquis  myself,"  laughed 
Ladeuce  softly  in  his  thoughts,  "  but  I  shall  be 
next  to  the  Marquis."  Yet,  on  the  heels  of  the 
thought,  he  could  not  help  a  start  when  he  heard 
Gascoygne,  as  he  held  one  of  a  remnant  of  draw 
ings  that  Adelaide  and  Dominique  had  done  under 
his  supervision,  long  ago,  for  her  class  of  bad  boys 
in  the  town,  saying,  "  Yes,  indeed,  Miss  Grey,  you 
are  right ;  that  fairy  story  is  a  political  treatise  in 
disguise,  and,  in  a  humbler  way,  it  ought  to  be  the 
vade  mecum  of  all  adventurers,  too.  The  cunning 
friend  of  the  Marquis  of  Carabas  tells  all  their 
tales  in  one."  And  glancing  at  the  drawing,  he  saw 
that  Adelaide's  pencil  had  sketched  a  curious  like 
ness  to  himself  in  the  countenance  of  the  spurred 
and  booted  cat.  Both  likeness  and  speech  might 
be  accidental,  probably  were ;  but  the  revelation 
that  they  made  was  accusation  and  judgment  and 
sentence,  too.  It  only  decided  him  to  quicken  his 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAKABAS.  135 

movements.  He  went  out  with  Allia  —  she  very 
happy  with  the  black  pearl  he  had  given  her,  which 
looked  like  a  clot  of  poison  but  which  eclipsed  in 
her  eyes  every  pearl  the  Winged  Victory  brought 
Adelaide  —  into  the  garden  where  old  John,  busy 
with  some  bulbs,  not  far  away,  presented  his  broad 
back  to  the  contemplation  of  the  universe.  "  These 
are  the  days,"  she  said,  "  when  we  miss  Dominique ; 
we  used  to  be  out  with  him  so  much  in  boats." 

"Your  cousin  Adelaide  does  not  seem  to  miss 
him  badly." 

"  I  should  n't  wonder,"  said  Allia,  "  if  she  heard 
from  him.  Indeed  —  but  you  must  never  know 
it  —  I  am  almost  sure  she  does." 

"  She  is  very  peculiar,  then,  to  keep  her  knowl 
edge  of  him  to  herself,  and  let  my  old  friend  lan 
guish  in  his  sorrow.  One  would  do  a  good  work," 
said  Ladeuce  reflectively,  "  who  restored  that  son 
to  the  father.  I  would  go  for  him  to-morrow  if 
I  knew  his  whereabouts.  What  makes  you  sure 
that  she  knows  more  than  another  ? " 

Allia  glanced  at  him  cautiously.  "Oh,  will 
you  promise  me,"  she  said,  "  that  you  will  never 
breathe  it  ? " 


136        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

"  Is  it  not  enough  for  you  to  make  me  the  re 
quest  ?  I  would  promise  you  anything  !  " 

"  A  telegram  came  to  her.  I  saw  it..  I  ought 
not,  you  know.  But  I  wanted  to.  And  it  was 
only  a  Bible  text.  I  could  n't  make  anything  of 
it,  —  but  of  course  she  could.  And  it  had  no 
date.  And  it  came  by  cable.  And  that  is  all/' 
said  Allia  breathlessly,  frightened  at  herself  from 
every  point  of  view. 

"  By  cable  !  Do  you  get  me  a  sight  of  that  bit 
of  paper!" 

«  Why  ?     What  good  will  that  do  ? " 

"  I  can  trace  its  starting-point  at  the  office,  and 
we  will  have  Dominique  back  in  the  time  it  takes 
me  to  fetch  him/'  he  said  with  a  glowing  face  and 
a  joyous  laugh.  "  You  are  a  faithful  child  to  wish 
to  do  your  friends  this  service." 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  the  rest  ? "  she  said  then, 
after  a  moment,  winding  and  unwinding  her  scarf 
of  red  Madeira  lace.  "This  morning  there  came 
to  her  a  box;  and  it  was  full  of  fresh  orange- 
blossoms  !  Not  a  blemish  on  them !  Oh,  it  was 
so  sweet !  I  am  not  betraying  anything  there,  for 
you  must  have  noticed  how  the  whole  house  smells 
like  an  altar." 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS.  137 

"  Fresh  orange-blossoms  ?  They  could  not  have 
come  from  far,  then.  That  tells  the  story.  The 
cable  gives  the  port,  the  port  gives  the  ship.  Do 
you  want  a  whole  string  of  black  pearls  ?  I  will 
bring  them  when  I  bring  Dominique." 

Ladeuce  had  seen  the  bit  of  paper  before  another 
day  was  over,  and  had  gone  about  his  business. 
If  the  orange-blossoms  did  not  indeed  tell  the 
story,  yet,  in  conjunction  with  the  message  by 
cable,  they  told  enough  to  the  Lieutenant's  mind 
for  him  to  conjecture  that  Dominique  had  to  do 
with  foreign  shipping,  and  was  just  now  in  an 
American  port. 

He  would  not  tell  him  how  resplendently  Ade 
laide  looked  that  morning  as  he  passed  her  in  the 
doorway,  with  the  bunch  of  orange-blossoms  at  her 
throat,  with  the  bloom,  the  blush,  the  brightness 
on  her  face,  as  if  she  were  herself  the  spirit  of  all 
the  sumptuous  beauty  of  sea  and  sky  and  air  upon 
that  summer's  day.  Between  that  and  little  Allia's 
beauty,  of  the  earth  earthy,  there  was  the  differ 
ence  that  there  is  between  a  poppy  and  a  star. 


138  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 


XV. 


THE  Lieutenant  had  given  the  patient  work  of 
years  to  the  development  of  his  discoveries  con 
cerning  Dominique,  and  he  had  the  patience  and 
the  cunning  of  a  cat  to  give.  This  part  was  but 
play.  If  he  was  not  in  one  near  port,  he  would 
be  in  another. 

To  find  him,  to  approach  him  in  his  own  solici 
tous  fashion,  to  represent  himself  as  injured  by 
Dominique's  course,  to  beguile  him,  hungry  for 
news  from  home,  for  an  hour  to  his  own  yacht  in 
the  stream,  —  all  that  was  no  long  operation. 

The  Nigfitbird,  that  had  discharged  her  contra 
band  cargo  and  had  been  awaiting  his  directions, 
was  in  the  port  where  he  ordered  her,  taut  and 
trim,  and  so  well  disguised  that  not  even  Domi 
nique  would  have  thought  her  anything  but  a 
craft  built  for  fast  sailing,  according  to  some  pecu 
liar  fancy  of  her  owner,  the  night  that  he  sat  on 
her  deck  as  the  moon  went  down,  and  the  soft 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  139 

wind  swelled  all  the  white  sails  up  all  their  lofty 
height,  and  the  water  hissed  away  in  foam  beneath 
the  sharp  keel  that  cleft  it. 

There  was  too  much  self-contempt  and  too  much 
wisdom  in  Dominique  to  let  him  accuse  Ladeuce 
of  his  ruin.  Nobody  but  himself,  he  knew,  could 
ruin  a  man.  But  the  tempter  had  no  longer  any 
attraction  for  him,  and  he  was  on  his  deck  only 
through  a  disinclination  to  refuse,  through  a  cer 
tain  residue  of  his  old  kindliness,  because  the  man 
was  just  from  Coastcliff  and  the  Lonely  Beach,  and 
because,  finally,'  he  had  assured  him  that  he  had 
important  business  which  could  be  best  transacted 
with  him  there.  His  own  ship,  the  one  of  which 
he  went  first  mate,  was  to  sail  upon  the  morning 
tide.  Ladeuce  had  caught  him  on  the  wing. 

Dominique  had  but  an  hour  or  two  to  spend 
here,  and  they  had  been  below  when  the  Nightbird 
silently  shook  out  a  sail  and  stole  away  so  gently 
that  one  hardly  observed  she  was  moving. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  touch  of  my  speed,"  said 
Ladeuce,  as  they  came  on  deck.  And  as  they  took 
their  seats,  he  added,  "  You  will  not  be  on  hand 
to  sail  with  your  ship." 


140  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

Dominique  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Not  ? "  he  cried 
like  a  trumpet.  "  Not  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
And  then,  as  he  looked  about  him,  "Are  you 
going  to  complete  my  ruin  ?  " 

"Softly,  softly,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  "We  have 
no  loud  voices  on  the  Nighfbird.  Before  you  grow 
violent  you  will  hear  reason,  and  see  that  there 
is  reason  in  it.  Ce  !  You  have  been  upon  this 
deck  before." 

"  I  ?     Never ! "  cried  Dominique. 

"Pray  be  seated,"  said  the  Lieutenant  blandly 
as  ever.  "  I  have  much  to  say  to  you  of  infinitely 
more  moment  than  the  recovery  of  your  position 
as  mate  of  any  ship  that  ever  sailed.  You  have 
been,  I  say,  on  the  Nigliibird  before.  She  was  a 
slaver  then." 

"A  slaver!" 

"A  slaver.  How  many  years  ago  is  it,  that 
the  stanch  little  devil  whipped  the  hurricane, 
one  midnight,  down  in  the  black  waters  off  the 
Caymans,  and  Dacre  and  I  — " 

"Dacre!   Dacre!" 

"No  excitement.  It  is  twenty  years  ago  and 
more.  My  friend,  Captain  Dacre  of  the  Lonely 


THE  MAEQUIS   OF  CAKABAS.  141 

Beach,  was  master  of  the  NigJifbird,  and  brought 
her  safely  away  from  many  a  stern  chase,  loaded 
to  the  water's  edge  with  negroes  —  " 

"  You  lie ! "  cried  Dominique.  And  with  the 
word  Ladeuce  had  measured  his  length  upon  the 
deck,  while  the  other  stood  over  him  blazing  in 
white  wrath. 

"I  do  not  lie,"  said  Ladeuce  calmly,  rising  on 
one  elbow  a  moment  and  waving  back  those  who 
would  have  sprung  to  his  aid,  "except  upon  the 
deck.  And  you  will  hear  me  out  if  I  have  to 
order  you  put  in  irons  to  do  it.  It  is  for  your 
own  interest." 

"  For  my  own  interest ! "  exclaimed  Dominique 
drawing  back.  "For  my  own  interest  that  you 
tell  me  my  father  was  — " 

"He  is  not  your  father,"  said  Ladeuce,  pick 
ing  himself  up.  And  he  rubbed  his  bruises 
contentedly. 

Dominique  staggered  into  his  seat. 

"  For  God's  sake ! "  he  cried,  "  is  the  whole 
world  a  lie  ?  Ladeuce,  will  you  torture  me  so  — 
I  cannot  —  no,  no,  it  is  false  ! " 

"It  is  true,"  said  Ladeuce.     "I  shall  call  Cap- 


142  THE  MAEQUIS   OF  CAEABAS. 

tain  Dacre  to  witness,  if  you  force  me.  He  will 
tell  you,  as  I  do,  that  you,  a  child  upon  your 
drowning  mother's  breast,  lashed  to  a  spar,  were 
drawn  from  the  wreckage  of  the  barque  El 
Rey,  tumbling  by  us  that  black  midnight;  that 
the  woman  went  back  to  her  grave  a  half-hour 
later,  and  that  you  were  taken  by  him  for  his  son. 
I  shall  run  the  Niglitbird  to  the  bay,  before  his 
door,  and  if  you  have  a  doubt  he  shall  set  it  quite 
at  rest." 

As  the  smooth  voice  slipped  on,  there  flashed 
on  Dominique's  memory,  through  all  his  bewil 
derment  and  doubt  and  pain,  the  stormy  night 
at  the  Lonely  Beach  when  they  had  talked  of 
slavers  till  the  Captain  turned  faint  and  sick. 
"My  father!  oh,  my  father!"  cried  Dominique. 
His  arms  fell  listlessly  and  he  shook  with  great 
sobs. 

" Desde  cuando?"  said  Ladeuce.  "As  I  said 
before,  he  is  nothing  of  the  kmd.  And  I  see  no 
need  of  trouble  at  that !  He  is  a  man  living  under 
menace  of  the  penalty  of  piracy,  the  sword  of  the 
law  liable  to  fall  —  no,  it  is  a  rope,  though  —  * 

"  Silence  I "  thundered  Dominique,   the  flash  of 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS.  143 

his  eyes  making  his  tears  like  sparks  of  fire.  "  I 
will  not  hear  another  word." 

"  You  cannot  help  yourself,"  with  a  wave  of  the 
arm  indicating  his  authority  there.  "Dacre  will 
tell  you  all  this  is  true.  That,  moreover,  he  owns 
the  Niglitbird  at  this  moment — " 

It  was  Dominique's  oath  at  his  impotence, 
for  whose  utterance,  although  under  his  breath, 
Ladeuce  politely  paused. 

"At  this  moment.  So  much  for  that  business. 
But  he  will  not  tell  you,"  continued  Ladeuce,  "  for 
he  does  not  know,  that  your  mother  had  just  life 
enough  to  whisper  to  me  your  name  and  race; 
that  I  have  her  wedding  ring,  a  part  of  her  linen 
with  its  name  and  coronet,  and  the  chain  and  locket 
from  your  own  throat.  Does  that  interest  you  ? 
If  you  are  not  the  son  of  the  slaver,  Dacre,  do  you 
not  want  to  know  who  you  are  ? " 

"No,  no,  no,"  sobbed  Dominique  again.  "I  care 
for  nothing.  I  want  nothing.  If  this  is  true  I 
want  nothing  but  death.  If  I  am  not  his  son 
I  am  nobody's.  But  it  cannot  be  true  !  I  swear,  I 
swear  it  cannot ! " 

Ladeuce  rose  and  walked  forward.     His  fall  had 


144  THE  MAKQUIS  OF  CAKABAS. 

stiffened  him  a  trifle.  He  was  not  altogether  in 
condition  for  this  excitement.  Still  it  was  but 
pleasurable  excitement.  When  he  came  back, 
Dominique  was  quiet  again,  staring  out  over  the 
shining  wake  they  cut  in  the  red  glow  of  the 
sinking  moon,  his  face  as  white  and  set  as  a  death 
mask. 

"  You  must  have  known  these  things  sooner  or 
later,  and  you  should  hold  me  not  as  your  enemy 
in  the  telling,  but  your  benefactor,"  said  the  mas 
ter  of  the  Niglitbird.  "  I  have  taken  this  ring, 
this  locket,  this  marked  linen,  those  whispered 
words ;  I  have  left  my  business  and  gone  to 
the  centre  of  authority;  I  have  unravelled  all 
mystery,  I  have  traced  every  thread,  I  have 
not  left  one  stitch  dropped ;  I  have  entered  your 
claim,  I  have  won  your  cause;  you  await  only 
your  investiture.  For  I  have  proved  that  the 
Marquis  del  Kiviero  was  killed  in  an  insur 
rection  on  one  of  his  West  Indian  estates,  to 
correct  abuses  on  which  he  had  left  Spain ;  that 
his  wife  and  child  and  their  servants  escaped  on 
the  barque  M  Rey  ;  that  you  are  that  child  ;  and 
that  all  the  estates  and  their  accumulated,  their 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  145 

unspeakable  wealth,  and  all  their  titles,  a  dozen  in 
number,  belong  to  you,  Don  Angel  the  Marquis 
del  Eiviero  y  Zumalaxericas.  To  the  proof,  I  have 
every  document^ and  affidavit  needed,  and  at  your 
service.  You  do  not  realize,  it  may  be,"  he  went 
on,  at  Dominique's  impatient  gesture,  "  what  this 
wealth  means.  That  you  are  a  grandee  of  Spain, 
that  you  are  one  who  may  wear  your  hat  before 
the  king,  that  signifies  little  to  you,  que  lastima  ! 
Yet  to  walk  your  people's  halls  while  their  eyes 
follow  you  from  the  painted  walls,  heroes  all,  that 
should  make  their  blood  sweep  superbly  in  your 
veins,  even  yours,  Dominique  !  And  then  you  for 
get  that  life  where  breath  is  luxury,  under  the  great 
sweet  orange  boughs,  under  the  stars  that  hang  out  of 
heaven  like  lamps,  troops  of  girls  at  the  fountains, 
guitars,  heaps  of  fruit,  eyes  flashing  from  mantillas 
at  the  church-door  —  Ay  de  mi  I  Of  what  am  I 
talking?  That  is  not  the  life  of  princes,  of  the 
owners  of  millions,  of  the  dwellers  in  castles  and 
towers,  unless  they  choose  to  doff  their  splendor. 
What  delight  in  spending,  in  giving,  in  doing! 
You  are  glad  to  toss  a  girl  a  bunch  of  roses  to 
day;  y°u  m&y  empty  a  garden  of  roses  into  her 
10 


146  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

room  to-morrow !  Now,  perhaps,  you  will  see  the 
necessity  I  have  been  under  to  compel  you  to  lis 
ten  for  your  own  advantage." 

"  And  what  do  you  expect  for  all  this  ? "  said 
Dominique  hoarsely. 

"  Gratitude." 

"And  that  is  — " 

"  Your  friendship  and  —  your  purse  —  to  speak 
openly,"  with  the  low  rippling  laugh. 

"  You  will  have  neither." 

"  Seiior  Don  Angel ! " 

"  None  of  your  ribaldry  with  me  !  "  cried  Domi 
nique,  "  or  I  will  throw  you  into  the  sea  !  It  was 
for  this  that  you  took  my  ruin  and  disgrace  in 
hand  !  To  teach  me  to  loathe  a  simple  life,  pure 
love,  healthy  aspirations  !  It  was  for  this  that  you 
led  me  through  riotous  nights  and  disgusting  days, 
that  I  might  learn  to  prize  the  luxury  awaiting 
me  and  find  myself  unable  to  do  without  it.  I 
believe  that  you  lie  in  your  throat.  And  let  who 
will  enjoy  your  castle  in  Spain,  it  will  not  be  I. 
I  will  not  add  one  hair  to  the  burden  my  father 
has  borne  for  me  —  " 

"  I  shall  have  to  show  you  the  papers,  I  see." 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CAEABAS.  147 

"  I  refuse  to  look  at  them." 

Ladeuce,  his  eyes  upon  the  deck,  lifted  his  cap 
from  his  forehead.  "The  papers  are  below,"  he 
said.  "You  will  go  down  with  me."  When  he 
looked  up  again  there  were  men  at  either  side  of 
Dominique.  "  You  will  forgive  me  this,"  he  said, 
"  when  the  king  calls  you  cousin.  Now,  quietly, 
or  by  force." 

"Let  them  lay  a  finger  on  me!"  cried  Domi 
nique. 

"  Quietly,  or  by  force." 

And  Dominique  went  below ;  and  he  saw  the 
proof.  There  was  no  possibility  of  disbelief. 

"  For  what  remains,"  said  Ladeuce,  "  that  is,  in 
relation  to  the  matter  of  the  slaver,  when  we  an 
chor  to-morrow,  if  the  sea  is  quiet  I  will  be  set 
ashore  and  bring  Captain  Dacre  off.  You  will 
not  doubt  his  word.  He  will  but  reinforce  mine." 
Arid  then  Dominique  went  on  deck  again. 

In  what  a  wild  whirl  were  his  emotions,  his 
thoughts,  if  he  could  call  them  thoughts,  where 
everything  came  as  it  were  by  the  flashes  of  light 
ning  that  reveal  outlines  on  the  darkness  of 
night.  His  father,  whom  he  had  adored,  whom  he 


148  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

had  idolized,  who  idolized  him  !  That  he  should 
have  been  connected  with  this,  capable  of  this, 
guilty  of  this  I  A  thousand  points  started  up 
bristling  in  the  light  now,  and  his  doubts  were 
torn  to  shreds  of  vapor  upon  them.  But  he  could 
not  connect  them,  he  could  not  reason  about  them ; 
he  felt  as  if  all  things  were  annihilated,  and  he 
alone  left  above  the  empty  hollow,  as  he  walked 
the  deck  for  hours. 

The  vast  shell  of  the  sky  wheeled  slowly  over 
hirn  and  the  sea,  the  great  sails  soared  dimly 
into  the  darkness ;  the  night  wore  gray  with  its 
dust  of  stars,  and  saffron  hints  began  to  gleam 
along  the  eastern  water,  while  a  great  morning 
star  came  out  with  steady  glow ;  but  he  saw  none 
of  it.  Then  the  topmast  tipped  itself  with  a 
point  of  flame,  the  topsail  glowed  like  some  hover 
ing  thing  of  life  far  up  aloft,  a  rosy  gush  of  light 
welled  up  and  filled  the  immense  spaces,  and  day 
broke  over  the  wide,  solemn  hush  of  the  high 
seas.  Still  Dominique  walked  the  deck,  unheed 
ing  the  change  of  watch  or  the  change  of  time. 

Ladeuce  slept  on  below ;  he  had  felt  but  poorly 
after  the  stormy  night-scene  ended ;  a  thought 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.        149 

struck  him  like  a  chill,  that,  after  all,  he  might 
never  come  into  the  fruit  of  his  labors. 

The  sun,  who,  if  not  our  creator,  preserver,  and 
benefactor,  is  at  any  rate  the  viceroy  of  that  power, 
brought  some  slight  help.  With  the  withdrawal 
of  darkness,  a  shade  of  confusion  and  hopelessness 
withdrew  also.  Dominique  remembered  that  La- 
deuce  .  had  said  this  was  all  twenty  years  ago  and 
more.  It  was  twenty  years  ago  that  his  father 
forsook  this  black  business,  saw  its  horror,  suffered 
with  its  shame.  Twenty  years  is  a  good  part  of 
a  lifetime.  The  Captain  Dacre  of  that  day  was 
not  the  Captain  Dacre  of  this.  Some  accident 
threw  him  into  that  current,  rudely  born  and  bred, 
the  drift  of  the  sea.  When  he  realized  the  thing, 
he  labored  to  leave  it.  Was  Dominique  going  to 

« 

believe  there  was  one  bad  seed  left  in  the  lovely 
soul  of  the  old  man  ?  Not  if  a  voice  from  heaven 
proclaimed  it.  His  religion  was  real,  his  self- 
sacrifice  was  utter,  his  love  was  perfect.  If  he  had 
ever  done  wrong,  it  had  been  unwittingly;  con 
victed  of  the  wrong,  he  had  cast  himself  free. 
Should  Ladeuce  bring  him  off  to  face  his  son  and 
confess  the  sin  that  in  all  these  silent  years  had 


150  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

been  branding  him  to  the  bone  ?  Never !  His 
father  should  never  drearn.  Dominique  knew  the 
past.  His  soul  should  not  be  seared  with  that. 
His  son  would  take  him,  and  they  would  go  away 
together  where  no  one  should  find  them.  They 
could  have  peace  yet,  if  not  joy. 

And  Adelaide.  There  came  a  fresh  pang,  rend 
ing  his  soul  asunder.  Whatever  he  knew,  what 
ever  he  felt,  he  could  not  expect  the  same  of  her, 
nor  could  he  connect  her  with  this  disgrace.  Never 
could  he  take  her  in  ignorance  of  this  stain  upon 
him;  never  could  he  betray  the  facts  about  his 
father  for  the  sake  of  regaining  her.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  if  it  were  not  his  father,  then 
the  stain  had  nothing  to  do  with  himself.  He  was 
part  and  parcel  with  the  man  whom  he  called 
father ;  he  was  his  son  in  spirit,  if  not  in  flesh. 
He  did  not  reason  out  so  much  as  that.  Adelaide 
must  not  know;  that  was  all.  If  his  wife,  she  would 
have  a  right  to  know.  She  must  not  be  his  wife 
then.  He  would  never  go  back  to  her.  She  was 
young;  she  would  forget  him.  Another  man  must 
hear  that  tender  voice,  must  meet  the  heavenly 
sweetness  of  her  smiles,  feel  the  soft  touches  of 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  151 

those  arms,  rest  in  the  daily  loveliness  of  face  and 
thought  and  ways.  Their  marriage  was  but  a 
fiction,  after  all,  as  one  might  say.  She  should 
be  freed.  One  day  it  would  be  a  faint  memory. 
And,  one  day,  perhaps  Gascoygne  —  His  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head  as  he  walked,  his  up 
turned  face  confronting  the  dawn,  the  groan  that 
passed  his  lips  seemed  to  tear  its  way  from  his 
soul. 

And  now  Dominique  set  himself  to  some  serious 
thinking. 

On  the  Spanish  business  and  his  heritage  he  did 
not  pause.  For  the  other,  there  was  but  one  de 
cision  to  make,  and  its  consequences  to  meet.  If 
his  father's  heart  had  not  already  been  broken  by 
his  boy's  heart-breaking  conduct,  it  should  never 
be  broken  by  the  knowledge  that  Dominique  was 
acquainted  with  his  early  life.  Since  he  could 
remember  him,  his  life  had  been  a  perfect  one. 
The  perfect  man  was  the  man  he  knew,  not  the 
tempted,  the  sinning,  the  brutal.  This  man  had 
no  more  in  common  with  that  than  the  white- 
winged  moth  has  with  the  loathsome  worm  before 
the  chrysalis.  His  memory  overswept  countless 


152  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAR  ABAS. 

scenes  of  the  old  Captain's  gentleness  and  pa 
tience,  his  simplicity  and  sweetness.  Was  the 
man  who  sat  by  the  winter's  fire,  imagining  God's 
scheme  of  making  the  dust  of  the  earth  heroic,  a 
bad  man  ?  Was  it  he  that  turned  faint  and  sick 
when  his  enemy  dragged  the  past  before  him, 
and  Adelaide  and  Dominique  had  said  they  would 
as  soon  touch  the  hand  of  a  leper  as  the  hand 
smirched  with  such  a  record  ?  No  matter  what 
the  record  had  been,  he  loved  him  just  the  same. 
Never  should  harm  come  to  him  !  Had  he  drawn 
the  shipwrecked  out  of  sea  and  storm  ?  Neither 
sea  nor  storm  should  prevail  against  him,  —  much 
less  this  reptile  !  Dominique's  brain  burned  with 
a  white  heat  as  he  remembered  the  wretch  ;  burned 
with  great  throbs  pulsating  through  all  his  body ; 
his  heart  seemed  to  pause  and  snatch  his  breath 
at  every  beat.  "0  my  father,  my  sweet  old 
father ! "  he  cried.  "  Never  fear !  Your  son  stands 
between  you  and  wrong  !  Were  his  facts  a  thou 
sand  times  true,  his  story  is  yet  a  lie  !  And  I  love 
you  so  I  will  die  before  he  touches  you ! " 

None  of  all  this  had  been  thinking,  after  all,  so 
much  as  swift  perception.     Yet  now  it  narrowed 


THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.  153 

down  to  two  points  of  question  and  answer.  Who 
was  there,  Dominique  asked  himself,  that  knew  of 
this  old  slaver  sufficiently  to  bring  the  matter 
home  personally?  Who  knew  of  it,  in  fact,  at 
all? 

No  soul  but  Ladeuce  —  no  one  being  alive  upon 
the  earth.  The  knowledge  was  locked  in  the 
Lieutenant's  breast,  would  be  silent  there  forever 
were  his  tongue  stilled,  were  his  hand  nerveless. 
And  where  was  every  document  relating  to  it  ? 

On  this  vessel. 

There  was  but  one  course.  Was  treading  on  a 
snake's  head  murder  ?  If  it  were  ten  thousand 
murders,  it  was  all  the  same. 

Then  Dominique  threw  himself  on  the  deck  and 
slept  without  a  dream  far  into  the  day. 

Ladeuce  was  just  going  over  the  side  as  he 
awoke.  "  Good-by,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  my  work 
is  all  in  vain.  But  you  will  await  me  and  the 
guest  I  bring  to  you.  When  you  see  sme 
again  we  will  have  changed  the  complexion  of 
things ! " 

Two  men  went  with  him.  They  ran  up  a  sail 
and  soon  were  a  speck  on  the  horizon. 


154  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

The  Nightbird  had  reduced  her  sail,  and  was 
slowly  edging  her  way  into  Coastcliff  Bay.  Domi 
nique  went  below  and  occupied  himself  there  — 
with  some  charts,  thought  the  officer  who  went  to 
see,  since  everything  else  was  under  lock ;  with 
pacing  up  and  down  like  a  wild  creature  in  a  cage, 
another  one  reported.  He  was  below  a  long  time. 
The  men  came  back  before  he  went  on  deck,  and 
the  vessel  had  anchored. 

With  a  glass,  as  they  rolled  on  the  slight  swell, 
he  could  see  the  long  low  town,  the  outer  hill 
with  the  cottage  gleaming  among  its  gardens,  the 
white  curve  of  the  Lonely  Beach  and  the  knot  of 
gnarled  oaks  beyond  it.  The  late  afternoon  sun 
was  just  reddening  hill  and  town  and  spire,  and 
Ladeuce  was  not  returning.  Dominique  laughed, 
as  he  saw  it,  while  his  glass  swept  the  expanse. 
It  was  Wednesday ;  and  Wednesday  was  the  day 
on  which  Captain  Dacre  and  Dominique  had 
always  dined  at  the  cottage,  and  passed  the  night. 
It  was  unlikely  that  his  father  had  broken  through 
the  habit  of  years,  or  that  the  cottage  people 
should  allow  it,  now  that  he  was  all  alone.  La- 
deuce  was  waiting  at  the  Lonely  Beach ;  he  would 


THE  MAKQUIS  OF  C  ARAB  AS.  155 

wait  all  night.  His  father  was  sitting  now  on  one 
of  the  flowering  terraces,  with  Adelaide  going  and 
coming  about  him,  —  the  flower  herself,  the  sun 
beam  !  Little  did  he  think  it  was  in  this  way  he 
should  return  to  her,  unseen  himself,  although  so 
near,  unseen  and  impalpable  as  the  dead  !  Ah,  if 
the  glass  would  but  give  her  to  him  now,  now 
when  it  was  the  last  time  he  should  ever  try  to 
look  upon  her.  God  bless  the  dear  girl,  God  help 
her !  If  she«suffered,  she  but  shared  his  pain.  All 
things  that  had  to  do  with  him  must  suffer. 

It  was  some  time  afterward  that  Dominique 
approached  the  officer  of  the  deck.  "  I  should 
like  for  myself,"  he  said,  one  hand  on  his  pistol 
pocket,  "the  yawl  with  which  your  commander 
went  ashore.  I  go  the  same  way.  For  you  and 
the  rest  there  is  the  Cape,  as  you  know,  not  quite 
a  dozen  miles  to  the  eastward.  If  you  have  any 
thing  of  value  here  you  had  best  get  it  out ;  and 
you  cannot  be  too  quick  about  it.  I  see  that  you 
have  boats  enough." 

The  men  surveyed  curiously  the  dark  young 
stranger,  whose  conduct  had  been  so  peculiar, 
whose  face  was  so  white,  and  whose  voice  seemed 


156  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

now  to  come  from  so  far  away.  "  Are  you  beside 
yourself,  sir  ? "  he  asked. 

"You  will  be,  if  another  hour  finds  you  on 
the  NigMbird"  said  Dominique.  "  Do  you  recog 
nize  this  signature  ? "  It  was  the  draft  with 
which  Ladeuce  had  once  paid  to  him  some  heavy 
gaming  debts  and  that,  through  all  his  woe  and 
want,  he  had  scorned  to  use.  "  It  will  make  good 
any  loss  you  meet,"  he  said.  And  then  the  quick 
sharp  dialogue  that  followed,  the  purse  that 
changed  hands  with  the  draft,  although  it  left 
him  penniless,  and  the  intrepid  spirit  in  the  heat 
of  whose  flame  these  men  were  but  the  sparks 
flying  upward,  completed  the  work  he  wished. 

An  hour  later  the  NigMbird,  with  all  sail  set 
and  not  a  soul  aboard,  was  drifting  into  Coastcliff 
Bay  in  the  rosy  twilight.  Two  boats  had  left  her, 
making  for  the  Cape,  and  another,  with  its  head 
pointed  in  the  opposite  direction,  was  stealing 
over  the  purpling  water  like  a  ghost. 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  157 


XVI. 

THE  old  Captain  sat  in  the  garden  chair  of 
the  terrace  under  Mrs.  Stuart's  window.  He  had 
abated  something  of  his  unrest,  and  something  of 
his  condemnation,  too,  since  Adelaide  had  told 
him  of  the  orange-flowers. 

"  It  means  marriage  bells  and  wreaths,"  said  he. 
"It  means  that  he  sees  his  way  clear  and  will  soon 
be  here;  that  he  feels  sure  of  himself;  that  he 
has  withstood  his  temptations.  "We  shall  see  him 
presently,  my  Adelaide."  The  Captain  had  no 
idea  of  breaking  any  bonds  now.  In  the  dulling 
of  his  own  hurt  and  the  unconscious  action  of  his 
affections  through  all  this  time,  he  had  come  to 
believe  in  the  working  of  new  miracles,  and  that 
Dominique  was  about  to  deserve  Adelaide.  Just 
now  he  was  sound  asleep,  with  his  newspaper  over 
his  head,  and  Gascoygne,  returned  from  his  after 
noon  visits,  was  walking  down  one  of  the  garden 
aisles  to  Adelaide,  who  stood  knee-deep  among  the 
white  and  gold  lilies. 


158  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

Old  John  lifted  his  broad  back  as  he  went  by. 
"  Do  you  see  anything  out  in  the  bay,  sir  ? "  said 
he.  "  I  was  looking  through  my  glass  a  while  ago, 
and  I  think  his  friend  is  after  the  old  Captain 
again.  Might  have  given  him  more  breathing- 
space  than  a  week.  His  room's  better  than  his 
company.  His  company 's  worse  for  the  Captain 
than  Dominique's  room,"  with  a  chuckle  in  his  fat 
throat. 

He  went  for  the  glass  and  adjusted  it  to  Gas- 
coy  gne's  eye.  "You  see  her,  sir  ?  "  he  said.  "  She 
was  close  hauled  when  I  happened  to  spy  her  out, 
an  hour  gone.  But  since  then  she's  hoisted 
anchor  and  crowded  on  sail,  and  that  I  don't 
make  out,  for  she  's  always  kept  her  distance  in 
these  waters  before." 

"She  is  certainly  bearing  down  on  the  Black 
Buoy.  I  wonder  how  well  she  knows  the  coast  ? " 

"  You  had  better  believe,  Doctor,  she 's  sounded 
every  fathom  more  than  once." 

"  She  '11  be  grounded  on  the  reef—  " 

"  If  she  stands  to  her  course.  But  she  '11  go  about. 
I  don't  quite  see  through  that  rig,  though." 

"I  don't  see  anybody  aboard  of  her,"  said 
Gascoygne. 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  159 

"It  mightn't  have  been  two  boats  left  her  on 
the  Cape  side ;  but  I  '11  swear  I  saw  another,  with 
a  peaked  sail  and  gaff,  running  for  the  straight 
line  between  the  breakers  of  the  Lonely  Beach." 

"  Then  Ladeuce  will  be  there  when  the  Captain 
returns  to-morrow.  It 's  a  thousand  pities.  He 's 
wearing  the  old  man's  nerves  to  tatters.  John,  I 
think  it 's  time  we  —  " 

"  Did  a  little  something,  sir.  Yes,  sir.  I  wish 
to  God,  sir,  my  beard  was  black  again.  But  a 
man 's  like  the  new  red  roses,  —  after  they  get 
purple  the  second  day,  there's  no  watering  will 
turn  them  red  again." 

"  Well,  well.  I  rather  think  you  '11  do.  Just 
shave  a  half-inch  down  your  cheek,  enough  to 
show  the  sabre-cut,  while  Thomas  puts  in  the 
horse,  and  I  should  n't  wonder  if  we  put  the  foe  to 
flight.  Another  siege  of  him,  and  the  old  Captain 
would  go  to  the  wall." 

In  a  half-hour  they  were  trundling  along  the 
causeway  at  the  head  of  the  meadows,  through 
the  wood  where  the  shadows  and  the  wild  fra 
grances  were  already  heavy,  and  out  upon  the 
open.  It  was  a  clear  twilight  glorified  by  a  moon. 


160  THE  MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS. 

But  a  spark  in  the  window  was  the  only  light  in 
the  old  house  as  they  drew  near ;  it  was  the  tip 
of  the  cigar  the  Lieutenant  smoked  at  the  open 
window.  Gascoygne  went  on  ahead,  passed  round 
the  corner,  and  entered  the  house. 

"  Good  evening,  Lieutenant,"  he  said.  "  You 
have  come  back,  I  see." 

"  "Why,  my  young  Doctor,  is  it  you  ? "  cried  the 
Lieutenant.  "  By  all  that 's  good,  that  is  fortunate. 
Be  seated,  pray.  Will  you  smoke  ?  "No  ?  I  can 
recommend  these  Habanas.  No  small  vices  ?  Yes, 
I  have  come  back,  you  see,  and  partly  to  continue 
your  treatment." 

"You  make  a  mistake,  Lieutenant,"  said  Gas 
coygne,  still  standing.  "I  told  you  long  ago  I 
could  do  nothing  for  you.  You  came  back, 
I  think,  to  see  an  old  acquaintance.  John, 
here!" 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  a  voice  out  of  the  shadow, 
"  I  have  grown  gray  since  we  served  together."  And 
the  stooping  shape  of  the  gardener  came  into  the 
moonlight  that  fell  through  another  window  like  a 
pale  halo  on  the  gathering  gloom,  straightened 
itself,  and  confronted  the  Lieutenant.  "  I  have 


T-HE   MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS.  161 

grown  gray  since  we  served  together.  But  you 
remember  the  night  I  got  this  stroke  with  a 
cutlass  ? " 

Ladeuce  did  not  move,  but  one  could  see  a  slight 
tremor  shivering  through  him.  His  lips  parted, 
but  the  whispered,  "  Jasper  ! "  seemed  to  stay  be 
tween  them. 

"  Jasper.  That  is  what  they  called  me  on  the 
middle  passage.  John  Jasper  is  my  name  up 
here,  the  name  my  father,  and  my  grandfather,  in 
the  fishing-town,  bore  before  me  here." 

"  Well,  John,"  said  Ladeuce  then  lightly,  "  I 
sometimes  thought  there  was  a  familiar  bend  in 
your  back  —  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  your 
face  —  over  your  work  in  the  gardens.  I  don't 
know  that  I  ever  heard  your  voice.  Dashed  if  I 
could  place  you.  Stupid  of  me.  I  suppose  you 
followed  Dacre." 

"  Perhaps  the  Captain  followed  me,"  said  the 
gardener,  leaning  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  "I 
always  had  a  fancy  for  turning  over  the  earth.  I 
had  come  here,  and  was  the  gardener  on  the  hill, 
before  the  Captain  and  his  boy  were  wrecked  out 
there  on  the  reef." 

11 


162  THE  MARQUIS   OF*CARABAS. 

"  Sly  old  fox,  to  keep  it  to  himself  I " 

"He  had  n't  it  to  keep,"  said  John.  "White 
head  and  beard  and  eyebrows,  stooping  back, 
another  hundredweight,  and  a  silent  tongue  have 
been  as  good  as  rolling  seas  between  us.  The  Cap 
tain  has  never  guessed  my  riddle,  Lieutenant." 

"  He  has  n't  ?  May  I  ask  why  you  have  never 
read  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  that 's  your  affair.  But  I  'd 
just  as  soon  tell  you.  I  lay  low  at  first,  to  see 
how.  the  land  lay,  and  when  I  found  out  the  life 
he  wanted  to  live  for  the  sake  of  the  boy,  I  'd  no 
mind  to  hinder.  I  'd  no  quarrel  with  him  when 
we  sailed  together." 

"  And  when  did  you  place  your  confidence  in 
our  friend  here,  the  Doctor  ? " 

"  When  I  guessed  you  were  leading  Dominique 
to  the  dogs,  and  worrying  the  old  Captain  into 
the  grave.  We  'd  grown  pretty  fond  of  Dominique 
up  here,  you  see." 

"  And  what  have  you  come  to  me  for  ?  Hush- 
money  ?  But  you  could  have  had  that  of  him. 
To  ship  on  board  the  Nightbird  again  ?  These  old 
sea-dogs  will  return  to  their  —  " 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAEABAS.  163 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,  Lieutenant.  To  ship  with 
you  ?  It  was  a  dark  night,  Lieutenant,  but  do 
you  suppose  I  don't  know  where  I  got  this  cutlass- 
wound  and  who  threw  up  your  arm  ?  You  had 
a  good  grudge  against  me  then ;  you  Ve  a  better 
now.  Not  to  ship  with  you ! "  And  the  gar 
dener  laughed  grimly.  "To  tell  you  to  quit, 
Lieutenant." 

"  To  tell  you,"  said  Gascoygne,  "  that  your  power 
over  Captain  Dacre  is  gone,  and  you  must  be  back 
on  your  ship  before  morning." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  are  imperative." 

"  Perhaps  so.  The  case  is  urgent.  And  you  do 
not  care  to  be  denounced  ? " 

"  Denounced  ?  Do  you  expect,"  he  exclaimed 
to  the  gardener,  with  that  ripple  of  a  laugh  like 
the  bubbling  of  a  flute  under  water,  —  "  do  you 
expect  to  betray  me  arid  go  scot-free  yourself? 
Come  to  denouncing,  and  I  have  a  word  to  say." 

"  It  would  n't  do  any  good,  Lieutenant.  I  was 
tried  for  piracy  on  the  high  seas  long  ago,  and 
served  out  a  part  of  my  sentence,  and  got  my 
pardon,  and  my  mistress  knew  it  when  she  took 
me."  The  gardener  chuckled  again  at  the  thought. 


164  THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

"  She  believes  she 's  been  the  saving  of  me,"  he 
said.  "  But  Lord  !  I  would  n't  run  my  neck  into 
that  noose  again  not  for  love  of  money.  All  of  us 
Coastcliff  fellows  have  got  to  have  a  turn  on  a 
man-of-war,  or  be  cast  away  in  the  South  Seas,  or 
take  a  hand  at  smuggling  or  the  African  trade  or 
whaling.  "We  shouldn't  think  we  were  able- 
bodied  seamen  if  we  didn't.  But  I  had  all  I 
wanted.  I  like  pottering  about  my  flowers  all  day 
and  going  home  to  my  old  woman  and  the  children 
of  nights  a  sight  the  best." 

"  Well,  Lieutenant,  that  is  all  to-night,"  said 
Gascoygne.  "  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you  that 
if  you  are  here  to-morrow,  or  ever  again,  there  will 
be  more.  We  fail  to  understand  your  motives, 
but  we  have  too  much  interest  in  an  old  man  who 
has  blotted  out  wrong  with  right,  in  the  lad  who 
has  grown  into  our  hearts,  —  in  his  wife,  —  to 
have  them  injured  or  annoyed  further.  And  so 
good-night." 

As  they  left  the  room  the  gardener  came  back 
and  looked  in  the  door  again.  "  Do  you  mind," 
said  he,  "the  little  chap  that  slapped  your  face 
for  you  when  you  were  saucy  to  his  sister  over 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  165 

there  by  the  rope-walk   one   day  ?      That 's   my 
boy." 

"  Damn  your  boy  !  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

When  he  heard  the  sound  of  their  wheels  on 
the  causeway  coming  through  the  quiet  air  he 
relighted  his  cigar  and  laughed  a  little.  What 
odds  would  all  this  rodomontade  make  ?  He 
should  have  Dacre  and  be  off  with  him  in  the 
skiff  by  sunrise,  and  good-by  to  Coastcliff  and  the 
whole  kit  of  them  here.  One  would  smile  at  it 
all  when  secure  in  the  castle  in  Spain.  A  castle 
in  Spain  —  the  old  phrase  struck  him.  Ah,  ah ! 
but  he  had  taken  pains  enough  with  the  founda 
tion  !  And  what  was  this  about  a  wife  ?  The 
more  to  cut  loose  from,  that  was  all,  and  serve  my 
lady  right.  But  he  would  n't  have  supposed  a 
little  thing  could  have  excited  him  so.  He  would 
have  liked  to  wring  that  young  cockerel's  neck. 
However,  let  those  laugh  that  win.  By  sunrise  — 
To-night,  he  was  fairly  tired  out  and  should  drop 
asleep  in  his  chair. 

How  still  it  was  !  A  moment  ago  he  heard 
the  thin  fine  strain  of  a  bugle  blowing  sweetly 
from  the  boat  of  some  pleasure  party  up  the  little 


166  THE   MARQUIS  OF   CAEABAS. 

Coastcliff  River ;  now  nothing  but  the  ripple  of  a 
spent  wave.  Through  all  the  damp  coolness  and 
salt  breath  of  the  wide  air,  over  meadow  and 
under  the  low  wood,  only  the  rustle  of  a  leaf,  the 
fanning  of  a  moth's  wing,  the  floating  of  a  falling 
flower.  One  could  hear  silence  itself.  Silence 
broken  only  by  the  seldom  plash  of  the  breaker, 
by  the  faint  beating  of  oars  in  the  rowlocks,  far 
out  upon  the  sea,  in  the  moon  —  or  was  it  the 
beating  of  one's  heart,  regular,  repeating,  —  grow 
ing  louder, —  growing  louder,  —  turning  to  thunder 
on  one's  ear  !  Infernally  close  these  rooms  when 
one  had  had  a  whole  sky  to  breathe  in  —  By  the 
Lord! 

What  was  it  that  made  him  bound  from  his 
seat  and  fall  back  again  ?  A  white  vision  in  the 
moonshine  ?  A  cold  hand  laid  upon  his  heart  ? 
The  first  dream  of  the  night  ?  The  Lieutenant 
had  dropped  asleep  in  his  chair. 

But  the  beating  of  the  oars  in  the  rowlocks  was 
more  and  more  distinct  and  real.  It  was  from 
the  oars  of  a  boatman  making  shore  between  the 
breakers  that  barely  showed  a  white  lip  at  him. 
Since  he  had  left  the  Nightbird  the  wind  had 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS.  167 

fallen  and  his  sail  had  flapped  loose  and  idle,  and 
he  had  taken  no  heed  of  the  tide  that  was  against 
him  in  rowing.  It  made  small  difference ;  he  bent 
over  his  oars  and  with  straining  muscles  sent  the 
boat  along  by  great  lengths,  all  alone  on  the  wide 
weird  water  in  the  moon,  pushing  forward  to  his 
fell  purpose.  Now  he  was  in  the  still  stretch  be 
tween  the  two  horns  of  the  breaker ;  now  the  boat 
slid  slowly  up  the  sand,  and  he  clambered  out  and 
stretched  his  cramped  limbs  a  moment  before  he 
put  on  his  jacket,  looked  to  his  priming,  and 
passed  up  the  long  slope,  up  the  wet  reach  of  the 
margin  bared  by  the  tide,  up  the  loose  bluff  of 
sand,  up  the  soft  stretch  of  turf  to  the  house. 

No  light  in  the  house;  that  was  well.  The 
master  was  on  the  hill,  the  man  and  maid  were  at 
their  jollity  in  the  town.  There  was  a  window, 
and  some  one  sitting  at  it.  A  thin  cloud  gathered 
and  blew  across  the  moon  as  Dominique  crept  up 
farther.  A  man,  he  thought,  —  a  man  asleep.  A 
dozen  steps  nearer.  He  would  not  shoot  a  man 
asleep.  The  fellow  should  know  what  struck  him. 
And  then  the  cloud  blew  off  and  blew  away  to 
threads  in  the  violet  vaults  of  the  midnight  sky. 


168        THE  MAKQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

The  moon,  that  had  come  round,  shone  full  on  the 
sleeper's  face  with  cold,  clear  lustre.  Ah,  let  your 
hand  fall,  Dominique,  and  the  weapon  roll  away 
from  it  untouched,  for  fate  has  been  before  you 
here  !  No  sleeper's  face  is  this,  —  but  the  face  of 
a  dead  man.  Ladeuce  had  been  gathered  to  his 
fathers  —  if  he  had  any. 


THE   MAKQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  169 


XVII. 

WHEN  Dominique  reeled  away  from  the  house, 
staggering  as  if  struck  with  the  rebound  of  the 
blow  that  had  slain  his  foe,  he  was  aware  of  but 
one  sensation,  —  that  he  must  put  miles  and  miles 
between  himself  and  the  crime  he  had  committed. 
Beads  stood  on  his  forehead,  but  he  was  cold 
as  clay,  cold  as  that  thing  in  the  window  be 
hind  him  there,  —  that  icy  thing  staring  at  the 
moon.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  be  as  dead 
as  that.  To  be  like  that  ?  Oh,  never  like  that, 
nothing  in  common  with  that !  Let  him  make 
haste  away  till  distance  should  swallow  it !  He 
pushed  off  his  boat  mechanically,  and  began  to 
row  heavily.  "Whither  ?  To  the  Cape  ?  To  the 
Nightbird  ?  His  keel  was  grazing  on  the  pebbles 
across  the  bay,  before  he  realized  that  he  was  on 
his  way  to  Adelaide.  Not  to  speak  with  her,  to 
hold  her,  to  caress  her,  but  just  once  more  to  see 
her  sweet,  pure  face,  and  then  to  put  the  side  of 


170  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAIIABAS. 

the  earth  between  them.     Then  all  the  veils  of  all 
horizons  should  cover  it  from  him  forever ! 

He  climbed  the  steep  path,  going  round  by  the 
back  of  the  hill,  that  he  might  avoid  everybody, 
and  paused  at  the  gate  in  the  wall  on  the  side  of 
the  town,  where  the  little  wicket  creaked  on  its 
hinges.  He  would  go  out  that  way  again,  and 
follow  the  high  road.  One  minute  he  waited  to 
listen.  Not  a  sound  betrayed  that  any  one  had 
heard  him.  A  branch,  rising  on  the  faintly  rising- 
breeze,  shook  down  a  mist  of  fragrant  dew,  and  a 
thrush  somewhere  in  its  recesses  seemed  to  dream  a 
song.  Over  his  head  an  althea,  with  its  clusters  of 
pale  bloom,  towered  white  in  the  moonlight  that 
overlay  it,  and  fell  on  the  hedge  of  white  hydran 
geas  ;  just  at  hand  the  great  cedars  dropped  their 
silvered  boughs  ;  faint  wafts  of  bergamot  and  balm, 
and  mint  and  lemon  leaf,  came  blended  in  cool, 
delicious  breaths  ;  and  as  he  stepped  cautiously 
down  the  walk,  he  could  see  the  lilies  trembling  in 
all  their  gold  and  snow,  and  feel  the  stifling  sweet 
ness  that  drifted  from  their  cups  along  the  slow 
night  air.  But  he  noted  nothing  of  it  all ;  if  he 
was  ever  so  dimly  aware  of  it,  it  was  but  as  the 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  171 

atmosphere  of  peace  and  innocence  putting  a 
sharp  edge  to  his  sense  of  guilt,  his  sense  of  guilt 
that  had  fallen  on  him  suddenly  as  a  thunderbolt 
falls.  Now,  as  he  turned  the  screen  of  the  purple 
clematis  and  honeysuckle,  came  the  glow  from  the 
open  doors  and  casements  of  the  house.  And  now, 
stealing  nearer,  he  could  see  their  shapes  within, 
could  see  Adelaide  walking  up  and  down  the  hall  on 
his  father's  arm,  could  even  hear  their  voices.  They 
talked  lightly  of  their  unrest,  their  expectations ; 
he  heard  his  own  name ;  they  were  saying  he 
could  not  be  far  away,  and  any  day  or  night  might 
bring  him  ;  and,  if  not  that,  then  the  next  voyage 
at  all  events.  They  were  saying  how  chivalric 
was  the  nature  that  felt  so  deeply  its  forfeit  that 
it  would  not  accept  the  happiness  waiting  for  him, 
till  it  should  be  earned,  that  had  given  years  of 
his  life  for  his  sin-offering,  that  had  sent  him  out 
alone  in  the  world  to  expiate  the  faults  of  the  hot 
and  heedless  hours  of  youth,  to  seek  deliverance 
from  temptations  that  might  haunt  him,  and 
cure  for  his  past  ail.  "  It  is  his  search  for  the 
Holy  Grail,"  said  Adelaide.  "  We  must  not  think 
how  we  long  for  him.  We  must  only  think  how 


172  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

strong  and  noble  he  will  be  when  he  comes  back." 
What  a  chill  was  this  that  swept  over  him  like  a 
wind  from  the  tomb,  and  curdled  his  blood,  and 
stiffened  the  plunging  of  his  heart !  Ah,  what  an 
outcast  was  he  from- that  paradise  !  Nor  was  it  to 
be  helped.  Were  it  undone,  he  would  do  it  all 
again.  Were  the  crime  to  commit,  his  hand  would 
be  as  red. 

From  where  he  stood  he  looked  directly  through 
the  hall.  Now  they  were  under  the  hall-lamp, 
against  which  a  moth  was  beating.  Adelaide  had 
on  a  thin  gown,  the  color  of  her  eyes,  and  she 
wore  her  mother's  yellow  pearls.  How  sorry  was 
this  look  that  had  grown  in  his  father's  eyes ! 
They  went  forward  to  the  door,  where  Allia  sat 
on  the  step,  fingering  a  broken  string  of  beads. 
One  had  just  rolled  away  from  her ;  she  went  to 
get  a  lamp  to  carry  out  and  look  for  it.  Was  it 
the  little  Voodoo  god  ?  Was  it  on  that  that  Cap 
tain  Dacre  quietly  set  his  foot,  crushing  it  to  pow 
der  ?  Who  knows  ?  For  at  the  instant  of  her 
return,  shading  the  lamp  with  a  calla-leaf,  a  sud 
den  cry  from  her  lips  startled  one  and  all  to  look 
her  way.  And  there  against  the  sky-line  of  the 


THE   MARQlfts   OF  CARABAS.  173 

bay,  almost  as  if  grounded  on  the  outer  reef,  rose 
the  likeness  of  a  burning  ship  at  sea,  —  sail^  and 
shrouds  and  spars,  cordage  and  pennon  and  long 
low  hull,  outlined  in  fire,  a  towering  flame,  a  thou 
sand  towering  flames,  with  just  the  film  of  dis 
tance  and  of  moonshine  making  reality  a  phantom. 
For  a  time,  every  one  was  stone-still  in  the  splen 
dor  and  awfulness  of  the  apparition.  Not  even 
Dominique,  not  even  Adelaide,  heard  the  Captain 
murmur  to  himself :  "  By  Heaven  !  If  I  did  not 
know  it  was  mirage,  if  I  did  not  know  she  was 
down  under  the  equator,  I  could  think  it  was  the 
craft  herself,  and  that  it  was  all  up  with  Ladeuce ! " 
But  something  straightened  him  as  he  gazed, 
something  lifted  a  load  from  him,  as  if  he  saw  his 
sins  and  all  their  evil  train  consuming,  and  the 
smoke  of  them  ascending  a  burnt  sacrifice  to 
heaven.  After  all,  a  better  knowledge  told  him 
that  that  cloud  of  fair  flame,  that  whirling,  wrap 
ping  sheet  of  fire,  that  core  of  red  heat,  that  pall 
of  pitchy  smoke  sweeping  away  on  the  land-breeze 
and  floating  farther  and  farther  out  to  sea,  blacker 
than  blackness  in  the  moonbeam,  was  no  mirage, 
and  he  could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  Nighfbird. 


174  THE   MARQUIS   CJF   CARABAS. 

Dominique  saw  the  whole  thing  through  the 
vista  of  the  hall.  A  fierce  joy  fluttered  over  him 
in  the  midst  of  his  misery.  For  an  instant  out  of 
the  intense  shadow  he  had  started  into  the  full 
moonlight ;  then,  as  the  flame  of  smoke  and  cin 
ders  fell  away  upon  the  wind,  came  over  all  his 
aching  consciousness  some  grewsome  fantasy  of 
the-  ashes  of  a  castle  in  Spain,  and  he  shrank  back 
into  hiding. 

A  half-hour's  waiting.  But  he  had  no  idea  of 
the  passage  of  time.  Captain  Dacre  went  back 
into  the  house,  and  sat  down  with  Mrs.  Stuart 
and  Miss  Grey,  for  a  good-night  game  of  casino ; 
Adelaide  strolled  down  the  hall  again  and  out  the 
garden  door.  She  stood  there  so  near  him  that  he 
could  touch  her,  that  he  could  perceive  the  scent 
of  roses  always  hovering  about  her.  Good  God ! 
could  he  endure  it  ?  Then  she  had  gone  on  and 
up  the  garden  walk,  and  was  standing  where  the 
open  light  fell  on  a  staff  twisted  and  re-twisted 
with  the  trumpet-flower  vine  like  wreaths  of  flame 
behind  her.  It  was  not  her  mere  loveliness  that 
moved  him  so,  although  to  his  excited  senses  that 
exceeded  all  women's  loveliness  before  her.  It 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  175 

was  herself,  the  personality  that,  if  fire  had  scarred 
and  marred  her,  would  have  been  the  same,  her 
single-hearted  earnestness,  her  sanguine  belief  in 
prevailing  goodness,  the  fine  texture  of  her  nature, 
and  that  sweet  innocence  which  knowledge  of  evil 
could  not  soil,  all  mingled  in  one  temper,  as  all 
the  colors  of  heaven  go  to  the  making  of  clear 
white  light,  and  all  a  part  of  the  life  that  had 
grown  up  between  them  almost  from  childhood, 
common  to  both  of  them.  Nor  was  it  that  these 
things  in  the  detail  occurred  to  Dominique ;  it  was 
the  impression  of  the  whole  that  his  heart  felt 
like  the  stamp  of  the  seal  upon  hot  wax.  She  was 
lovely,  she  was  herself,  she  was  his !  If  for  one 
moment  he  could  clasp  her  !  And  the  gulfs  of  the 
eternities  gaped  between  them,  the  gates  of  hell 
prevailed  against  them! 

As  she  stood  there,  she  was  singing.  How 
peaceful,  how  perfect,  how  heavenly  it  was,  with 
the  flowers  and  fragrances,  the  silence  that  fol 
lowed  on  the  song,  the  moonlight  sleeping  far  and 
wide,  —  oh  !  the  accursed  moonlight  that  rested, 
too,  upon  that  stiffening  mask,  that  upturned  face 
in  the  window  at  the  Lonely  Beach  !  Presently 


176  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

she  went  on  and  up  through  the  lilies ;  she  would 
soon  be  out  of  sight.  Gascoygne's  voice  was 
heard  calling  her;  the  silver  tones  replied.  He 
was  conscious  that  all  things  were  taking  on 
an  exaggerated  strain,  as  if  he  were  in  a  rarer 
atmosphere.  "It  will  not  do,  it  will  not  do," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  must  get  out  of  this,  or 
my  brain  will  burst."  And  he  crept  to  the  next 
shadow,  and  stopped  to  hear  whether  crackling 
gravel  or  twig  told  of  him  or  not,  ere  he  gained  the 
shelter  of  the  old  lilac  walk,  when  all  at  once  Gas 
coygne's  voice  rang  out  again.  "  Adelaide !  Domi 
nique  is  in  the  garden.  Dominique  !  I  saw  you." 
A  wild  fright  seized  him  at  the  words.  He  cow 
ered  in  the  gloom  a  minute,  and  then  there  was  a 
flutter  and  a  flight  and  a  quick  glad  cry  coming, 
and,  with  a  leap  like  that  of  some  desperate  thing 
of  the  woods,  he  started  to  flee  he  knew  not 
whither,  and  ran  into  Adelaide's  arms. 

"  Unhand  me  ! "  he  cried  savagely,  in  a  hard, 
hoarse  voice.  "  Unhand  me,  I  tell  you !  Will 
you  let  me  go,  or  not  ? "  The  piercing  sorrow 
and  surprise  and  hesitation  as  she  called  his  name 
again  cut  him  to  the  heart. 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS.  177 

But  he  must  not  stay  for  that.  "  Hands  off ! " 
he  cried  again.  "  Don't  touch  me  !  Don't  touch 
me !  There  is  blood  upon  me  !  Now  will  you  let 
me  go  ? " 

But  it  was  Gascoygne's  large,  firm  grasp  upon 
his  shoulder  now.  Adelaide  was  standing  just  be 
fore  him,  motionless,  with  her  clasped  and  fallen 
hands,  as  if  she  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 
"  All  the  less  for  that,  Dominique,"  said  he.  "  Now 
tell  us  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean,"  said  Dominique  then  slowly,  lifting 
his  wretched  face  to  the  light,  "  that  I  am  a  mur 
derer." 

"  And  of  whom,  Dominique  ?  "  said  Gascoygne 
gravely,  his  grasp  still  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Of  my  enemy.  And  I  do  not  regret  it.  I 
would  do  it  again,  if  need  were.  There  is  nothing 
more  to  say  about  it." 

"  You  mean  the  Lieutenant,  then  ? " 

"  I  mean  the  Lieutenant." 

"  What  nonsense  is  this,  Dominique  ?  It  is  not 
three  hours  since  I  left  him  sitting  in  the  window- 
place  at  the  Lonely  Beach  —  " 

"  It  is  not  two  hours  since  /  left  him  there,  but 
12 


178  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 


—  stone  dead,"  said  Dominique,  as  if  obliged 
to  recall  all  the  ghastly  scene,  "  and  staring  at  the 
moon." 

"  You  are  mad,  lad." 

"  Go  and  see  if  I  am  mad  !  Oh,  you  will  find 
him  there.  He  will  be  waiting  for  you,  with  the 
leer  fixed  on  his  damnable  face,  and  the  pistol  — 
what  have  I  done  with  that  revolver?  Yes,  yes,  I 
remember.  It  fell.  It  is  in  the  grass.  Do  you 
think  you  had  better  keep  me  now  ?  To  be  taken 
and  tried  for  my  crime  ?  Do  you  hold  me  still  ?  " 
he  cried  vehemently.  "Do  you  not  recoil  from 
me  ?  Do  you  not  shudder  at  my  touch  ?  Oh,  it 
is  he  that  has  forced  me  to  this  ;  it  is  he  through 
whom  I  have  become  this  execrable  thing  ;  it  is  he 
that  has  made  my  hands  drip  with  murder  !  If  he 
has  a  soul,  may  Heaven  visit  the  penalty  upon  it  !  " 
And  then  he  fell  upon  the  grass  before  Adelaide, 
grovelling  there.  "  No,  no,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  not 
fit  to  touch  the  hem  of  her  garment.  I  may  not 
kiss  her  feet." 

But  Adelaide  was  kneeling  as  instantly  beside 
him,  and  was  lifting  his  head  in  her  arms.  "  I  do 
not  believe  what  you  say,"  she  sobbed.  "  And  if  I 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  179 

did,  oh,  my  poor  Dominique,  what  difference  would 
it  make  with  your  wife  ? " 

"  Dominique,"  said  Gascoygne  sternly,  "  I  do 
not  know  what  these  heroics  mean.  I  am  going 
to  take  John,  and  go  over  to  the  Lonely  Beach  and 
discover.  But  you  must  promise  me  you  will  not 
leave  this  place." 

"  I  cannot/' 

"  That  you  will  not  leave  this  place.  Now,  lis 
ten.  I  cannot  let  Adelaide  stay  out  of  doors  so 
long,  but  you  will  go  into  the  grapery,  —  the  glass 
is  open,  —  and  wait  for  me  with  her,  or  I  will  call 
your  father  —  " 

"  My  God,  Gascoygne,  don't  do  that ! " 

"  What  else  can  I  do  ?  I  must  call  your  father, 
or  you  must  promise  me  to  stay." 

"  I  thought  you  used  to  be  my  friend,  Gas 
coygne,"  implored  Dominique.  "Don't  you  see 
that  I  must  go  ?  Don't  you  see  I  can't  drag  Ade 
laide  down  with  me,  —  that  I  set  her  free,  —  that 
she  shall  not  be  the  wife  of  a  felon,  —  that  every 
moment  I  stay  adds  to  my  agonies,  —  that  I  am 
only  a  tramp  on  that  highway  to  the  nearest  port  ? 
No,  no,  my  father  must  not  hear.  Is  there  no 


180  THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

faith  in  man  ? "  And  he  was  on  his  feet  again, 
eager  and  white  in  his  passion  of  despair. 

"  I  don't  want  to  call  him/'  said  Gascoygne. 
"  Give  me  your  word  to  await  me  here,  and  I  will 
not." 

"  I  promise  you  anything,"  he  said,  "  anything, 
if  in  return  you  promise  that  he  shall  not  know  I 
have  been  here." 

"  Unless  you  wish  it.  This  way.  Here ;  there 
are  two  rustic  chairs.  Be  quiet,  Dominique,  till  I 
return,  —  I  may  be  gone  two  hours,  —  or  I  shall 
give  you  a  composing-powder  now." 

"  You  can  give  me  no  composing-powder,  Gas 
coygne.  There  is  nothing  to  medicine  my  hurt. 
A  thousand  years  from  now,  in  this  world  or 
another,  the  wound  will  be  just  as  raw  and 
bleeding." 

When  Gascoygne  had  drawn  the  seats  side  by 
side,  he  left  them,  and  it  was  but  a  few  minutes 
before  the  cautious  feet  of  the  horse  he  bestrode 
might  be  heard  going  down  the  hill,  followed  by 
those  of  the  one  he  led  for  John.  And  if  any 
on  the  hill's  brow  had  looked,  they  might  presently 
have  seen  the  two  galloping  over  the  bridge  and 


THE   MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  181 

along  the  causeway,  as  if  a  host  of  goblins  fol 
lowed  after. 

Dominique  sat  with  his  elbows  on  the  arms  of 
his  chair,  his  head  resting  in  his  hands,  and  his 
feet  thrust  out  before  him,  saying  nothing.  Ade 
laide  left  his  side,  and  went  gently  wandering 
up  and  down  the  walk.  Over  them  streamed  the 
westering  moon  tempered  by  the  trailing  shadows 
of  the  thick  vine-leaves  and  the  translucent  grape 
bunches,  where  the  light  almost  seemed  to  have 
gathered  into  shining  drops  and  clusters.  After 
a  while  she  paused  hesitatingly  before  him,  and 
then,  kneeling  at  his  side,  put  her  arms  along  his 
shoulders,  and  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast.  He 
sat  still,  neither  stirring  nor  returning  her  embrace. 
She  could  feel  the  shiver  thrilling  through  him. 
At  length,  as  if  he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  he 
rose,  and,  doing  so,  lifted  her  to  her  feet. 

"  Adelaide,  I  must  not  touch  you,  I  must  not 
speak  to  you,"  he  said.  "  Oh,  my  God !  It  seems 
as  if  once  I  might  take  my  own  wife  into  my 
arms ! " 

And  suddenly  he  had  snatched  her  and  folded 
her  to  his  heaving  breast,  raining  passionate  kisses 


182        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

down  upon  her  face,  kisses  followed  by  a  storm  of 
tears,  before  he  opened  his  arms  and  released  her. 
She  gathered  up  her  fallen  hair,  blushing  even  in 
the  moonlight  filtering  through  the  vines. 

"  Dominique,"  she  said  presently,  going  and  put 
ting  both  hands  on  his  arm  where  he  leaned  against 
an  arch,  "  am  I  not  really  your  wife  ?  " 

((  God  knows  you  are,"  he  said  chokingly.  "  But 
you  will  not  be  long.  You  shall  not  be  tied  to 
anything  so  wretched  as  I.  I  came  into  your 
sweet,  still  life  out  of  storm.  I  go  back  to  my 
element.  You  will  be  sad,  you  will  be  sorry ;  you. 
will  grow  careless,  you  will  forget.  Oh,  I  see  it 
all ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Some  night,  when  I  shall 
be  tossing  on  the  storms  of  the  south  seas  without 
a  star,  you  will  be  happy  and  smiling,  and  going 
to  and  fro  with  the  calm  and  stainless  man  who 
gives  your  home  peace." 

"  Oh,  what  do  you  take  me  for,  Dominique  ? " 
she  said  piercingly.  "  Can  you  think  this  of  one 
who,  you  know,  believes  marriage  to  be  a  sacra 
ment,  and  denies  the  possibility  of  divorce,  even 
by  death  ?  I  am  your  wife,  you  just  said.  Not 
even  God  can  make  it  otherwise.  And  what  are 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  183 

wives  for  ? "  she  cried.  "  To  enjoy  all  the  pleasures 
of  life  and  to  have  none  of  its  troubles  ?  Would 
you  be  so  cruel  as  to  let  me  share  your  joy  and 
not  try  to  help  you  bear  your  sorrow  —  " 

"Adelaide,  it  is  no  use.  Though  you  speak 
with  the  tongues  of  angels,  you  cannot  make 
black  white.  Husband  and  wife  are  one  —  you 
cannot  be  one  with  me.  I  told  you  I  would 
mount  to  you.  Oh,  to  what  depth  have  I  fallen 
instead  !  I  will  riot  let  you  hurt  yourself  so  far  as 
to  become  one  flesh  with  the  man  —  " 

"  Who  committed  a  sin  in  an  outburst  of  pas 
sion  —  " 

"  It  was  no  outburst  of  passion.  I  rowed  twelve 
miles,  against  wind  and  tide,  to  kill  Ladeuce, 
meaning,  every  time  I  lifted  the  oar,  to  kill  him. 
And  he  is  dead.  I  see  you  shudder  now  as  you 
think  of  it." 

"Yes.  I  shudder.  It  is  dreadful.  I  cannot 
make  it  out.  It  seems  as  if  it  never  could  have 
been  my  Dominique." 

"It  never  was.  It  was  quite  another  person 
from  the  Dominique  you  knew.  That  Dominique 
was  an  innocent  lad,  0  Christ !  in  his  worst  ex- 


184  THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

cess !  This  Dominique's  hands  are  as  red  as  his 
heart  is  black  !  You  see  there  is  nothing  between 
you,  —  your  spotlessness  retreats  from  him." 

"I  see  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Adelaide, 
calmed  by  his  turbulence.  "  I  see  that,  if  he  were 
all  you  say,  he  would  need  me  so  much  the  more. 
Not  only  his  help,  his  comforter,  but,  if  we  are 
husband  and  wife,  if  we  are  one,  if  he  is  the 
sin,  as  he  says,  and  I  am  the  innocence,  then  he 
cannot  dispense  with  me,  —  my  innocence  shall 
bring  him  back  his  own.  But,  oh,  Dominique, 
you  make  a  mistake  in  thinking  so  well  of  me.  I 
am  —  I  am  capable  —  I  too,  Dominique,  could 
tread  on  the  snake  — ' 

"  Adelaide,  you  drive  me  wild !  You  do  a 
wrong !  You,  with  your  white  soul !  You  —  " 

"  Yes,  if  he  were  stinging  to  death  one  I  loved. 
Oh ! "  she  cried,  as  Dominique  started  at  her 
words,  "  I  felt  it  in  my  heart  when  I  thought  he 
was  leading  you  astray." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  he  led  me  astray.  But  a  man 
has  the  choice  of  going  or  not.  It  was  not  for 
that  —  Adelaide  !  My  darling  !  Say  no  more, 
say  no  more  ! "  he  cried,  flinging  himself  aside. 


* 
THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS.        185 

"You  will  force  me  to  betray  myself.  I  would 
not  have  you,  when  I  am  gone,  think  I  am  all,  all, 
all  black,  for  I  had  reasons,  terrible  reasons  —  " 

"  I  know  them,  Dominique." 

"You  know  them!" 

"I  heard  the  old  gardener,  John,  telling  Gas- 
coygne  that  he  —  served  with  the  Lieutenant  and 
Captain  Dacre.  You  know  the  rest,  Dominique." 

"But  you  must  tell  me  !"  he  insisted,  while  the 
furious  current  of  his  veins  sung  and  resounded 
in  his  ears. 

"  On  the  Nightlird"  she  whispered  tremblingly. 
"The  — the  slaver." 

As  she  spoke,  all  Dominique's  strength  forsook 
him.  His  knees  gave  way ;  his  face  was  ashen ;  he 
sank  into  the  seat  at  hand.  "  And  I  have  soiled 
my  soul  with  murder  to  keep  a  secret  that  all  the 
world  knew ! "  he  murmured. 

"  Nobody  knew  it  but  Gascoygne  and  I.  No 
body  does  now." 

How  much  more  did  she  know,  he  questioned 
of  himself,  his  heart  fluttering  like  a  leaf  in  a 
storm.  That  he  was  not  Captain  Dacre's  son  ? 
That  she  was  the  wife  of  —  what  is  this  Ladeuce 


* 

186  THE   MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS. 

called  it  —  a  grandee  of  Spain?  He  could  not 
ask.  A  wild  hope  shook  him,  for  half  the  mo 
ment,  that  she  knew  everything.  But,  like  the 
black  shadow  of  a  sunbeam,  came  as  swiftly  the 
conviction  again  of  his  father's  shame  and  misery 
if  aware  that  the  child  of  his  love  knew  of  his 
dishonor. 

"  No,  no,"  he  cried  aloud ;  "  it  was  not  for  that 
I  made  away  with  a  life.  Not  that  the  creature 
alone  knew  the  secret,  but  that  he  was  about 
to  make  my  father  learn  I  knew  it  also !  I 
never  meant  —  I  never  meant,  Adelaide,  that  you 
should  have  the  cruel  knowledge,  either,  that  I 
had  done  this  deed.  I  came  but  for  just  one  last 
look  at  you,  a  look  that  should  be  an  embrace, 
and  you  forced  me  to  disclose  myself.  I  meant 
then  to  disappear  out  of  your  life.  But  now  you 
know  it.  It  cannot  be  helped.  Only  if  you  ever 
loved  me,  do  not  let  my  father  know  it.  That  can 
be  helped." 

And  then  he  suddenly  became  silent.  Another 
word  might  be  too  much.  She  might  learn  that 
there  was  reason  for  Ladeuce  to  acquaint  his  father 
with  his  knowledge,  might  learn  of  that  Spanish 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  187 

secret  and,  with  her  high  cast  of  thought,  —  see 
ing  the  work  in  the  world  to  be  done  with  such 
rank  and  wealth,  such  place  and  power,  —  she 
might  feel  that  his  first  duty  of  all  was  to  take 
up  his  burdens  there,  render  allegiance  to  his  old 
race,  and  refuse  to  abandon  his  post.  Execrable 
secret,  in  which  if  he  ever  stirred  finger,  his  father 
must  suffer  all  he  should  be  screened  from,  must 
suffer  all  the  agony  of  looking  in  his  son's  eyes, 
conscious  that  Dominique  knew  of  the  deception, 
knew  that  he  was  not  his  son,  knew  of  the  black 
business  in  which  the  man  was  engaged  when  he 
became  his  son,  —  an  agony  worse  to  both  than 
death  !  Dominique  could  bear  to  wear  in  the  view 
of  the  woman  he  loved  the  stain  of  such  base 
birth ;  he  could  not  bear  to  break  the  old  heart 
that  loved  him.  He  could  give  up  Adelaide,  happi 
ness,  hope.  "Only  death,"  he  groaned,  "would 
have  been  so  much  the  easier." 

"You  must  not  think,  Dominique,"  Adelaide 
said,  after  the  long  silence,  with  a  timidity  as  if 
she  felt  herself  recreant  in  hinting  such  a  pos 
sibility,  "  that  this  has  made  my  love  for  your  — 
for  our  father  the  less.  I  knew  it  before  I  married 


188  THE   MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS. 

you.  I  pitied  him  so  much,  to  think  how  he 
regretted,  that  I  only  loved  him  more  and  more. 
Perhaps  I  honored  him  the  more.  You  remember, 
Dominique,  we  used  to  think  those  natures  nobler 
that  knew  sin,  and  left  it,  than  those  with  only 
idle  and  untempted  guilelessness." 

"  We  did  n't  know  what  we  were  talking  about.'* 
He  could  not  endure,  in  the  tension  of  his  nerves, 
to  hear  the  one  who  loved  his  father  almost  as  he 
did  himself,  speak  of  him  as  ever  having  sinned. 
And  then  there  was  another  silence. 

A  bell  from  the  chapel-spire  below  struck  mid 
night.  A  little  impatient  bird  outside  stirred  in 
his  nest,  and,  dreaming  it  was  morning,  began  to 
sing,  and  hushed  himself  again. 

"  I  am  as  impatient  as  that  bird,"  said  Adelaide. 
"  Now,  Dominique,  that  I  have  told  you  we  know 
the  whole  business,  you  will  not  think  of  going 
away  ? " 

"It  makes  no  difference,"  he  answered  her. 
"  You  cannot  be  the  wife  of  a  man  who  is  not  only 
a  criminal,  but  who  lives  with  a  death  sentence 
hanging  over  him.  I  should  be  away  from  this  at 
once.  It  is  hard  in  Gascoygne  to  keep  me.  If  I 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  189 

repented  I  should  want  to  pay  the  penalty  of  my 
crime,  you  see.  I  do  not  want  to.  I  do  not 
repent.  I  am  hardened  and  blood-stained  —  I 
have  only  a  horror  of  myself  that  may  lead  to 
madness." 

Adelaide  had  no  answer  to  make  him,  but  sat 
on  the  bench  where  she  had  sunk,  softly  weeping. 
He  went  over  and  sat  beside  her. 

-"  At  least  once,"  he  said,  "  lie  in  my  arms  and 
weep  on  my  breast.  Hush  now,  my  darling,  hush. 
Do  not  let  me  think  I  have  broken  your  heart.  I 
should  break  it  indeed  if  I  stayed." 

And  so  the  speechless  hour  passed,  till  there 
came  a  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  upon  the  bridge 
below ;  every  stroke  to  Adelaide  seemed  to  strike 
upon  uncovered  nerves,  and  to  Dominique  was  like 
the  swinging  of  a  pendulum  that  measured  off  the 
moments  of  his  respite.  Then  they  thought  they 
heard  Gascoygne  at  the  stables ;  a  quiet  step  on 
the  gravel  and  he  had  rejoined  them. 

"  It  is  just  as  I  thought,"  he  said.  "The  purest 
nonsense.  You  are  either  suffering  from  illusion, 
Dominique,  or  you  are  a  fool.  Ladeuce  is  dead 
indeed  —  " 


190  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 

"  I  told  you  he  was,"  said  Dominique  sullenly. 

"  But  you  did  not  kill  him.  He  had  been  dead 
some  time  before  you  landed  on  the  beach.  He 
died  of  a  disease  of  the  heart,  which  I  long  ago 
told  him  might  put  an  end  to  him  any  day.  There 
was  neither  wound  nor  bruise  nor  bullet-mark 
upon  him.  John  and  I  exnmined  him  thoroughly. 
Nor  have  I  been  content  with  that.  Before  we 
buried  him  at  the  foot  of  the  old  plum  orchard 
near  the  meadow,  and  effaced  all  appearance  of 
our  work,  I  had  a  brief  autopsy,  to  be  assured  for 
your  sake,  as  I  am  assured,  that  I  was  certainly 
right.  Are  you  satisfied  now  ? " 

"Why  should  I  be?" 

"  Why  should  you  be  ?  Dominique,  you  put 
me  out  of  all  patience !  What  do  you  make  of 
this,  then  ?  Here  is  your  pistol.  I  found  it  in 
the  grass.  It  is  one  of  the  old  ivory -mounted  pair 
with  which  we  used  to  shoot  at  the  buoy.  Every 
ball  is  in  it ;  every  chamber  is  loaded.  There  has 
not  been  one  discharged.  You  have  fired  no  shot 
with  that  weapon." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  say,  Gascoygne  —  " 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  you  no  more  killed  La- 


THE    MARQUIS   OF   CAR  ABAS.  191 

deuce  than  I  did.  But  he  is  dead  and  buried ;  his 
ship  is  burned  ;  and  that  is  the  end  of  him.  He 
will  never  be  inquired  for.  And  as  for  old  John, 
his  fealty  to  Captain  Dacre  is  as  great  as  when  he 
sailed  with  him.  He  tells  nothing  of  his  service 
with  your  father  but  the  bare  fact  of  the  ser 
vice  ;  and  his  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Stuart  and  to  Ade 
laide  is  so  sincere  that  he  may  be  trusted  to  keep 
our  confidence.  ]STow  you  will  come  in  and  go  to 
bed  like  a  rational  man.  It  has  been  a  ghastly 
affair,  but  we  are  well  out  of  it.  Come." 

"And  do  you  think,  Gascoygne,"  cried  Domi 
nique,  suddenly  facing  him,  white  and  blazing 
as  the  star  that  was  rising  out  of  the  sea  behind 
them,  "  do  you  think  that  my  hand  was  so  much 
more  worth  than  my  soul  ? "  What  a  laugh  was 
that  which  burst  through  his  lips  I  "  Do  you 
think,"  he  cried  again,  "  that  because  Fate  and  I 
had  the  same  intention  at  the  same  moment,  my 
intention  was  any  the  less  because  Fate  struck  first  ? 
Do  you  think  that  any  two  minutes  or  two  hours 
of  time  could  annihilate  the  fact  of  my  fixed  pur 
pose  ?  Was  n't  the  murder  done  in  my  soul  ? 
You  thirst  for  blood,  and  the  blood  is  spilled  by 


192  THE  MARQUIS  OF   CAKABAS. 

another,  —  were  you  any  the  less  blood-thirsty  ? 
Do  you  know  what  murder  means  ?  If  you  stop 
a  planet  in  its  course,  there  is  heat  enough  set 
free  to  destroy  it ;  if  you  stop  a  life  in  its  course, 
the  flames  of  hell  shoot  forth.  No,  no  !  oh  no  !  I 
am  as  much  the  murderer  as  I  was  before.  It  is 
just  as  necessary  that  I  should  go.  I  am  as  much 
at  variance  with  all  that  is  peaceful  and  spotless 
and  —  " 

"  Why,  what  is  this  ? "  said  another  voice,  and 
they  saw  Captain  Dacre  coming  up  the  long  walk 
from  the  door,  with  the  last  ray  of  the  moon 
glancing  redly  through  the  crystal  panes  upon  his 
face. 

"  Adelaide,  dear,  are  you  here  ?  I  told  your 
mother  you  had  gone  to  bed,  and  I  locked  the 
doors  for  her.  But  voices  and  sounds  have  waked 
me,  and  kept  me  awake,  till  at  last  —  Dominique ! 
Dominique !  "  And  then  with  a  swift  step,  with 
an  utterance  half  joy  and  half  despair,  Dominique 
fell  insensible  at  his  father's  feet. 

"  That  ends  the  business,"  said  Gascoygne,  And 
with  the  Captain's  aid  they  lifted  the  unconscious 
form  and  carried  it  up  to  the  Captain's  bed. 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CARABAS.        193 

When  Gascoygne  came  down  to  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  he  said  he  had  been  up  all  night,  for 
Dominique  had  come  home,  and  lay  at  the  point 
of  death  with  congestion  of  the  brain. 


194  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS. 


XVIII. 

"I  THOUGHT,"  said  Allia,  looking  up  at  Gas- 
coygne's  intelligence,  with  the  sunshine  making  a 
dazzle  across  her  topaz-colored  eyes,  "that  some 
thing  very  queer  must  have  happened.  There 
seemed  to  be  sounds  in  the  air  everywhere  about 
the  house  last  night.  I  heard  horses'  hoofs,  and  a 
voice  crying,  and  then  I  remembered  that  burning 
ship,  and  thought  of  the  stories  of  the  Wild  Ladies, 
and  I  did  n't  know  but  my  Voodoo  bead  was  at 
work.  I  was  really  a  little  frightened.  I  knocked 
at  Adelaide's  door,  but  she  would  n't  answer ;  and  I 
wrapped  up  my  head  in  the  coverlet  before  I  could 
get  to  sleep." 

"You  grow  wiser  every  day  you  live,  Allia/' 
said  Gascoygne." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  when  Allia,  who 
had  quite  breakfasted  before  Gascoygne's  arrival, 
had  half  danced,  half  flung  herself  out  of  the 
room  at  his  remark,  "  where  Adelaide  is.  She  is 
always  so  early." 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS.  195 

"  Adelaide,"  said  Gascoygne,  balancing  his  coffee- 
cup  a  lingering  moment,  "is  sitting  with  her 
husband." 

"Is  what?" 

"  Is  with  Dominique,  cousin." 

"  Dominique  ?  Her  husband  ?  Have  you  left 
your  senses  ?  Gascoygne  !  Will  you  tell  me  what 
you  mean  ? "  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  her  hand  suddenly 
trembling  so  that  the  ruby  flickered  like  a  flame. 

"  Why,  nothing  very  bad,"  with  his  pleasant, 
reassuring  smile,  "  only  that  Adelaide  has  been 
the  wife  of  Dominique  since  — ' 

"  Adelaide  !  My  daughter  !  Gascoygne,  you  are 
dreaming ! " 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  painfully  aware  of  being 
wide  awake." 

"  But  my  child  —  deceiving  me ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Gascoygne,  "  there  are  some  cir 
cumstances  where  we  do  wrong  to  do  right.  And 
when  Adelaide  married,  she  thought  —  " 

"  I  cannot  believe  it.     I  must  go  to  her." 

"  You  had  better  be  seated  again.  There  must 
not  be  a  syllable  whispered  in  Dominique's  pres 
ence  ;  and  Adelaide  is  in  too  exalted  a  condition 


196  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAR  ABAS. 

to  know  if  she  is  on  this  earth  or  another.  It  is 
perfectly  true."  He  paused  a  moment  and  re 
garded  her.  "  While  you  were  attending  to  your 
Confederated  Charities  she  was  arranging  a  little 
charity  of  her  own.  You  are  surprised  ?  I  have 
presumed  you  had  no  other  intention." 

"  No  other  intention ! "  sobbed  Mrs.  Stuart. 
"  Gascoygne,  how  very  unkind  of  you  !  I  always 
meant,  I  always  meant,  Gascoygne,  that  she  should 
marry  you." 

"The  stars  meant  differently.  The  stars,"  said 
Gascoygne  gently,  "that  let  you  take  an  utter 
stranger  unquestioned  into  your  family  and  edu 
cate  his  child  with  your  own.  But  the  thing  is 
done,  my  dear  cousin.  I  don't  know  that  you 
need  to  shed  tears  over  it.  I  think  I  should  make 
the  best  of  it.  As  for  me,  I  am  still  here,  and 
always  shall  be.  The  poor  you  have  always  with 
you,  you  know — " 

"  Why,  Gascoygne,  you  have  a  fortune !  Are 
you  beginning  to  fear  coming  to  want  ? " 

"  I  came  to  want  long  ago.  It  takes  more  than 
money,  cousin,  to  make  good  fortune.  And,  mean 
while,  you  have  a  son-in-law  who  will  love  you 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAEABAS.  197 

very  truly,  that  is  if  he  lives  to  love  any 
one  —  " 

"The  poor  boy!  The  poor  child!"  said  Mrs. 
Stuart,  looking  up  with  the  sudden  tears  wetting 
her  face.  "  There  is  a  great  deal  that  is  delightful 
about  him,  Gascoygne.  And  he  never  had  any 
mother.  I  have  always  felt  like  a  mother  to  him, 
though.  And  if  —  if  he  is  really  my  own  son 
now  —  " 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  said  Gascoygne, 
laughing  in  the  midst  of  his  apprehensions. 

"  Then  I  must  go  to  him  at  once.  He  must 
have  nurses,  and  Miss  Grey  and  I  will  oversee 
them.  How  fortunate  I  am  in  having  Miss  Grey 
for  a  fixture  in  the  family !  But  that  makes  no 
difference  about  Miss  Adelaide,"  she  said,  rising. 
"  I  am  just  as  indignant  with  her.  To  think  that 
a  child  of  mine  — 

"  Is  it  all  her  fault  ?  Where  have  your  eyes 
been  ?  I  think  I  would  smother  my  wrath, 
cousin.  Adelaide  must  have  gone  through  with 
a  great  deal.  And  now  with  Dominique's  life 
hanging  in  the  scale  —  " 

"  That  is  true,  Gascoygne.     I  remember  how  I 


198        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

felt  when  my  poor  husband  —  Adelaide  with  a 
husband !  The  baby !  Gascoygne,  is  n't  it  like 
a  romance  ? "  And  Mrs.  Stuart  came  round  and 
kissed  Gascoygne,  who  had  finished  his  coffee,  and 
then  bustled  out  of  the  room,  the  pleasure  of  a 
child  with  a  new  play,  of  a  philanthropist  with  a 
new  pauper,  perhaps  rather  of  a  mother  with 
a  new  son,  beginning  to  blossom  in  her  bosom. 

Gascoygne  rose  and  walked  about  the  room,  and 
paused  at  last  at  the  teak-wood  desk  where  Mrs. 
Stuart  kept  her  correspondence.  Over  it,  wreathed 
with  a  long  branch  of  the  white  rose  vine  that  had 
been  indulged  in  its  determination  of  thrusting 
itself  into  the  room,  hung  the  portrait  he  had  made 
of  Adelaide  long  ago,  with  the  life  and  lustre  of 
her  young  beauty  in  the  flower-like  face  and  starry 
eyes.  "  That,  at  least,"  he  murmured,  "  nothing 
can  take  from  me."  Then  he  went  to  his  own 
retreat.  When  Captain  Dacre  came  down  he  saw 
another  picture  hanging  beside  Adelaide's,  the 
pastel  Gascoygne  had  given  her,  and  on  which  he 
had  imprinted  all  he  could  of  the  fire  and  radiance 
of  the  Southern  countenance  she  loved ;  round 
about  it  were  flung  sprays  of  the  brier  roses  torn 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAKABAS.  199 

from  the  garden  wall  where  the  two  children  had 
been  wont  to  read  their  books  together. 

Perhaps  that  sacrificial  garland  of  roses  indi 
cated  the  state  of  feeling  of  the  whole  household 
towards  Dominique,  the  delighted  acceptance  of 
him  as  one  of  themselves  now  in  fact,  the  de 
lighted  acceptance  of  the  romantic  circumstance 
coming  into  their  still  lives  that  he  had  been  Ade 
laide's  husband  all  this  time,  authorized  as  that 
was  by  Captain  Dacre's  knowledge  of  it.  If  it 
was  a  delightedness  kept  in  abeyance  during  the 
days  and  nights  when  Gascoygne  went  without 
sleep  by  the  sick-bed,  it  was  allowed  full  play 
when  Dominique  rose,  if  not  refreshed  and  strong 
from  his  fever  as  Achilles  from  the  river  Styx,  yet 
clothed  and  in  his  right  mind,  and  glancing,  every 
time  the  door  opened,  for  Adelaide,  whom  her 
mother  had  rigorously  excluded  from  his  room. 

It  had  become  evident  to  Gascoygne  during 
both  Dominique's  delirium  and  calm,  that  there 
was  no  change  in  his  feelings  or  intentions.  He 
was  floating  alone  on  clear  far-off  night  seas  under 
the  equator,  all  through  the  first ;  to  the  second  he 
came  with  that  weary  sense  of  taking  up  a  burden 


200  THE   MARQUIS   OF  C  ARAB  AS. 

that  every  one  feels  on  waking  after  disaster.  He 
did  not  ask  for  Adelaide ;  it  was  plain  he  did  not 
mean  to  do  so,  at  least  as  yet ;  he  had  no  right  — 
he  meant  to  claim  no  right.  The  first  time  that 
he  awoke  from  sleep,  opening  his  eyes  on  other 
than  the  phantasmagoria  of  the  heated  brain,  it 
was  to  see  his  father  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
the  same  smile  kindled  and  grew  and  overspread 
his  eyes  that  the  Captain  remembered  in  the 
child  he  had  rescued  from  the  sea.  For  long  after 
that  he  was  content  to  sleep,  with  the  weariness 
following  his  fever,  and  wake  to  meet  that  glance 
again,  or  else  to  lie  with  his  hand  grasped  in  his 
father's,  saying  nothing,  almost  thinking  nothing. 
When  he  did  speak,  it  was  only  to  signify  that 
this  was  too  pleasant  to  be  anything  but  brief, 
and  he  must  be  off  when  he  should  find  a  ship 
again. 

"  I  came  very  near  crossing  the  dark  river  this 
time,  did  n't  I  ?"  he  said.  "  Well,  I  must  soon  be 
sailing  a  different  sort  of  sea.  I  shall  not  get  my 
strength  again  till  I  am  out  on  blue  water." 

When,  however,  his  strength  began  to  return,  it 
came  swiftly,  helped  by  the  coming  coolness  of 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CABABAS.  201 

those  days  when  the  year  seems  to  pause  at  its 
full  ripeness.  He  said  nothing  to  Captain  Dacre 
of  his  life  since  they  had  seen  him  before,  or  of 
what  had  brought  him  back. 

"  1  may,  perhaps,  have  some  difficulty  in  getting 
a  ship  again,"  was  all  he  said  to  Gascoygne. 

"  Not  any,"  said  Gascoygne.  "  Have  you  for 
gotten  the  Winged  Victory  ?  She  is  nearly  ready 
to  take  in  cargo  now ;  and  it  will  only  be  like  all 
the  rest  of  my  cousin's  behavior  if  she  sends  her  to 
Australia  under  your  command.  I  presume  you 
consider  yourself  competent." 

"  To  handle  a  fleet  of  her." 

"  Well,  perhaps  we  can  give  you  a  clean  bill  of 
health  by  the  time  the  agent  says  the  word." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dominique, "  that  I  can 
accept  the  command.  I  must  be  out  of  this  alto 
gether  ;  and  that  is  no  way." 

"  You  may  have  to  accept  it.  Captain  Durringe 
has  lately  died,  and  it  will  be  a  serious  loss  if  the 
ship  is  laid  up.  It  is  Adelaide's  property,  you 
know,  and  so  your  own." 

"  Then,  by  heaven,  I  never  will  set  foot  on  her 
deck!"  --,,:,: 


202  THE  MARQUIS   OF  CARABAS. 

"  We  won't  argue  the  matter,  Dominique ;  you 
are  not  yet  strong  enough.  I  had  hoped  the  fever 
had  burned  all  that  nonsense  out  of  you.  If  your 
wife  chooses  to  take  you  with  all  the  stains  that  you 
harangued  of  to  her,  I  cannot  think  that  you  are 
the  scamp  to  desert  her.  She,  at  any  rate,  does 
not  think  you  are,  and  has  been  in  person  to  her 
agent  with  her  orders.  I  believe  the  ship  can 
clear  within  the  month ;  there  is  a  state-room  en 
gaged  for  a  single  passenger,  which  may  be  pleas 
ant  for  you,  and  if  not,  it  can't  be  helped  now. 
By  the  time  you  have  sailed  to  the  antipodes 
in  her,  have  got  on  the  other  side  of  the  earth 
and  under  a  different  co-ordination  of  stars,  you 
will  have  seen  in  another  light  the  circumstances 
that  have  been  troubling  you,  and  will  have  re 
turned  to  your  senses.  Come,  come,  Dominique, 
you  force  me  to  a  dilemma.  Shall  I  commit  you 
to  the  Winged  Victory t  or  to  a  mad- house  ?  " 

Dominique  still  shook  his  head. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Gascoygne,  "  I  ought  to  bring 
up  my  allies.  Your  father,  who  became  persuaded 
from  your  wanderings  that  you  would  go  away,  is 
happy  now  in  the  thought  of  keeping  just  the 


THE  MARQUIS   OF   GARABAS.  203 

tether  of  the  Winged  Victory  ownership  about 
you." 

"  My  wanderings,  Gascoygne  ! " 

"  Oh,  you  need  have  no  anxiety,"  said  Gascoygne 
with  a  laugh.  "  Your  wanderings  were  only  out 
at  sea  — '  out  of  this,  out  of  this/  " 

"  Out  of  this,"  said  Dominique.  "  Yes,  out  of 
this.  Why  do  you  urge  me  to  darken  other  lives 
with  my  trouble  ?  If  I  did  not  virtually  with  my 
right  hand  do  all  that  in  my  madness  I  tKbught  I 
did,  I  am  as  much  the  culprit  —  it  was  no  fault  of 
mine  that  I  did  not.  Listen,  Gascoygne.  Here  is 
where  it  is  with  me.  I  did  an  evil  deed.  I  do 
not  regret  it.  I  am  under  conviction  of  sin.  But 
I  do  not  repent,  and  I  never  shall,  and  there  is  no 
forgiveness  without  repentance.  Don't  you  see, 
then,  that  I  am  already  in  hell  ? " 

"  Child's  talk,  Dominique  !  It  is  enough  that 
you  didn't  do  the  deed.  The  rest  is  moon 
shine.  You  are  still  under  an  illusion  and  need 
to  continue  my  treatment  and  follow  my  advice. 
Do  you  remember,  my  lad,  when  you  used  to  say 
that  it  seemed  to  you,  the  night  I  helped  you  off 
the  wreck,  that  I  made  you  ? "  Perhaps  Gascoygne 


204  THE   MARQUIS   OF   CAR  ABAS. 

forgot  with  a  purpose  that  it  was  he  and  not 
Dominique  who  had  cherished  that  fancy.  "  If  I 
did/'  he  continued,  "it  seems  to  me  I  have  a  right  to 
do  as  I  please  with  you ;  and  I  am  pleased  to  send 
you  '  out  of  this '  by  means  of  the  Winged  Victory. 
Moreover,  Dominique,  —  and  this  is  all  I  shall 
say  about  it,  —  the  captain  of  such  a  vessel  has  a 
chance  at  fortune  that  does  not  come  to  the  second 
or  third  officer  of  any  other.  You  have  a  chance, 
in  accepting  this  opportunity,  to  make  it  possible  for 
your  father  to  throw  away  the  money  gained  in 
the  way  that  grieves  him,  and,  with  your  purse  at 
his  hand,  never  to  feel  his  loss.  Look,  now,"  said 
Gascoygne,  ceasing  his  customary  pacing  of  the 
floor  and  coming  to  sit  down  opposite  Dominique's 
chair,  "  suppose  all  Captain  Dacre's  wealth  went 
to  found  an  asylum  for  certain  of  his  African 
people,  either  the  orphans  or  the  sick  and  old  — 
what  happy  years  will  he  spend  in  seeing  it  all 
done,  in  superintending  it  after  it  is  done,  in  feel 
ing  that  every  day  he  wipes  out  the  black  work 
of  some  other  day — " 

"  Gascoygne,  do  you  think  you  need  to  urge  that 
upon  me  ?     Have  I  dreamed   of  anything  else  ? 


THE    MARQUIS   OF   C  ARAB  AS.  205 

Has  he  ?  Has  n't  he  been  seeking,  this  dozen 
years,  for  the  means  to  let  him  do  it  and  not 
defraud  me  or  render  me  suspicious  ?  Has  n't  he 
tried  to  make  jewels  in  his  laboratory,  to  make 
phosphates,  to  find  out  the  secrets  of  the  earth's 
wealth  —  " 

"  Well,  in  this  way  you  find  them  for  him.  And 
can  you  see  any  fairer  prospect  of  happiness  than 
in  closing  or  tearing  down  the  Lonely  Beach  house, 
and  yourself  coming  home  from  your  voyages  to 
this  house  on  the  hill  —  a  better  gift  to  Adelaide 
each  voyage  than  all  the  pearls  the  Winged  Victory 
ever  brought  —  to  your  friends  here,  to  your  father, 
to  your  wife,  to  your  children  ? " 

"  0  Gascoygne,"  groaned  Dominique,  "  why  will 
you  tempt  me  so  ? " 

Was  it  a  dream  that  Dominique  dreamed  in  the 
morning  twilight,  between  sleeping  and  waking, 
or  was  it  some  forefeeling  of  the  future  that 
surely  one  day  was  to  be  his  own  ?  In  it  he  had 
corne  off  the  sea  one  sunny  morning,  all  bronzed 
and  bearded,  had  come  up  the  gardens,  terrace 
over  terrace,  brimmed  with  birds  and  bees  and 
blossoms,  and  into  the  hall  where,  as  he  had  seen 


206  THE   MARQUIS    OF   CARABAS. 

it  once  before,  the  sunlight  streamed  again  through 
the  jewelled  glass  of  the  skylight  over  a  woman 
with  just  that  aura  of  added  beauty  that  belongs 
to  the  women  of  dreams,  or  to  the  dreams  of 
women  the  dreamer  loves,  a  woman  gracious 
and  beautiful  as  only  Adelaide  could  be,  with 
every  year  an  added  grace,  —  and  streamed,  too, 
over  the  group  of  babies  round  her  there,  ideal 
babies,  this  with  the  father's  eyes,  that  with  the 
mother's  mouth.  The  air  is  full  of  the  sweet, 
sweet  music  of  their  cries  and  laughter ;  they 
have  been  telling  fairy  stories,  and  frolic  now  in 
some  sportive  game,  puss  in  the  corner  or  blind- 
man's-buff,  he  thinks,  and  one  with  blindfolded 
eyes  lays  hold  of  those  that  come  across  her  way. 
"  And  who  is  this  ? "  the  little  creature  cries,  as 
with  uplifted  finger  to  the  rest  he  has  stooped 
till  her  tender  hands  outspread  have  found  his 
bearded  face.  He  thrills  and  trembles,  even  in  his 
dream,  as  the  timid  touches  go  wandering  over  it 
"  And  who  is  this  ?  "  cry  all  the  rest.  And  the 
little  creature  shrinks  away.  "  I  don't  know  who 
you  are,"  she  says,  in  a  voice  that  half  declares  her 
doubt,  "  unless,"  with  a  memory  of  her  fairy  story, 


THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS.        207 

"  you  are  the  —  the  Marquis  of  Carabas."  And 
before  the  chorus  of  warbling  voices  can  shout, 
"  It  is  papa  !  It  is  papa  !  "  before  he  takes  her  in 
his  arms,  with  all  the  others  clinging  about,  and 
the  gracious,  tearful  mother  smiling  down  upon 
them,  the  glad  old  man  hurrying  forward,  "  I  am 
the  Marquis  of  Carabas,"  he  answers  her.  And, 
dream  or  not,  it  is  all  he  ever  tells  wife  or  child  or 
friend  of  the  old  castle  in  Spain. 


208  THE   MARQUIS   OF    CARABAS. 


XIX. 

PERHAPS  Mrs.  Stuart  builded  better  than  she 
knew  in  keeping  Adelaide  away  in  those  long 
days.  As  Dominique  sat  in  his  room,  or  went  out 
upon  tne  upper  gallery,  he  could  hear  her  voice 
about  the  house ;  this  step  seemed  to  be  hers  just 
approaching,  but  it  went  by  ;  the  nutter  of  that 
curtain  was  her  garment ;  the  cup  of  life  was  just 
about  to  touch  his  lips,  and  all  the  pleasant 
waters  spilled.  He  walked  in  the  garden  some 
paces  daily,  but  there  was  neither  bloom  nor 
perfume  there  without  Adelaide.  He  sat  at  the 
table  a  few  times,  but  he  fasted  for  more  than 
food,  in  Adelaide's  absence,  although  good  reason 
was  given.  When  he  came  down  at  length  to 
leave  for  the  Winged  Victory,  he  had  seen 
Adelaide  only  once  in  all  the  time  of  convales 
cence,  once  as  he  opened  his  door  and  looked 
down  the  stairway  and  she  was  standing  in  the 
hall,  with  the  colored  lights  falling  about  her,  and 


THE  MARQUIS   OF  CAR  ABAS.  209 

a  glad  answer  in  the  eyes  that  were  looking  up  at 
him.  To-day  she  was  gone  again.  There  were 
others  there  to  bid  him  farewell.  Mrs.  Stuart  was 
whispering,  "  This  is  your  home,  my  son ; "  Miss 
Grey  was  saying,  "  It  will  not  be  long ;  "  his  father 
was  clasping  him,  and  he  his  father  as  if  he  were  a 
boy  again.  But  Adelaide  was  not  there.  She 
could  not  trust  herself  to  say  good-by  ?  Maybe  it 
was  as  well.  Not  yet  in  his  full  strength,  had  he 
felt  those  arms  about  his  neck,  that  flower-sweet 
breath  upon  his  face,  it  might  not  have  been 
possible  for  him  to  cling  to  that  still  unsurren- 
dered  determination  of  coming  back  no  more. 
His  father  was  so  happy  here  he  hardly  needed 
him,  and,  if  he  did,  he  could  come  to  him  when  he 
had  sent  the  Winged  Victory  home  with  another 
master,  and  himself  trod  the  deck  of  some  ship 
that  never  ran  by  the  north  star.  After  all,  the 
fire  of  the  fever  had  burned  out  none  of  his  in 
delible  sense  of  wrong-doing ;  only  the  sweetness 
of  that  possible  home  and  heaven  had  tempted 
him. 

But  alone  on  the  quarter-deck  in  blue  water, 
with  the  fresh  west  wind  swelling  the  vast  sails 


210        THE  MARQUIS  OF  CAR  ABAS. 

and  blowing  far  away  up  the  dark  depths  to  shake 
a  keener  sparkle  from  the  stars,  it  was  only  with 
a  dreary  soul  and  heavy  heart  that  Dominique 
looked  out  that  night  over  the  shadowy  seas. 
Courage  enough,  but  to  what  purpose  ?  Youth, 
but  with  what  hope  ?  Life,  but  with  how  much 
strength  ?  The  great  black  night,  horizon  behind 
horizon,  was  no  blacker  than  this  phantom  of 
despair  that  loomed  above  the  edge  of  his  inner 
horizon,  no  blacker  than  the  conviction  of  guilt 
that  never  once  had  left  him,  that  never  could 
leave  one  who  knew  not  how  to  fight  it,  who  had 
no  help  to  fight  it,  who  was  alone  !  And  he  leaned 
over  the  rail  as  if  the  deeps  might  give  him  the 
help  he  needed,  or  the  grave  he  craved.  "  Alone, 
alone,"  he  said. 

But  as  he  spoke,  a  voice  replied,  "  Alone  ? " 
He  had  turned  at  the  sound  of  the  first  syllable, 
feeling  a  swift  and  indignant  impatience  with  the 
presumption  of  the  passenger  whom  he  had  not 
yet  seen.  "  Alone  ? "  said  the  voice  again,  like  a 
chord  of  music.  "  Not  alone,  Dominique,  with 
your  wife  and  God."  And  it  was  Adelaide  who 
threw  back  her  hood  and  looked  him  in  the  face. 


THE   MARQUIS   OF   CARABAS.  211 

"  You  could  not  leave  me,  you  see,"  she  said  with 
her  sweet  smile.  "  I  could  not  let  you  go.  0 
Dominique  !  You  will  not  think  ill  of  me  ?  But 
if  you  have  a  fight  to  fight,  your  wife  must  fight 
it  with  you.  If  you  have  a  stain  to  cleanse,  your 
wife  must  seek  the  cleansing  waters  with  you  ! 
We  will  ask  for  help  together,  Dominique." 

Already  so  much  help  —  perhaps  the  rest 
would  follow.  Something  like  the  echo  of  for 
gotten  joy  swept  through  him.  And,  as  the  ship 
rose  on  the  swelling  billow,  no  longer  with  the 
unconcern  of  unanswering,  unfathomable  immen 
sity  did  skies  and  waters  gleam,  while  Domi 
nique's  gaze  returned  to  them  with  Adelaide  in 
his  arms. 


University  Press:  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


ROBERTS  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  THIEF  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

By    HARRIET    PRESCOTT    SPOFFORD, 

Author  of  "The  Amber  Gods,"  "New  England  Legends,"  &c.    1  vd, 
16mo.    Price  $1.25. 

From  the  Literary  World. 

It  tea  long  time  since  Mrs.  Spofford  has  let  loose  a  novel  upon  the  world, 
bat  it  is  plain  that  her  right  hand  has  not  lost  its  cunning.  She  manipulates 
(he  thunderbolts  of  rhetoric  with  the  same  easy  vehemence  that  amazed 
the  readers  of  "  The  Amber  Gods"  a  dozen  years  ago.  Yet  there  is  more 
method  in  her  thought,  and  in  her  style.  The  former  is  deeper  and  more 
intense,  and  the  latter  shows  the  chastening  influence  of  time.  ...  In 
reading  her  writings  one's  intellect  and  sensibilities  are  at  variance ;  the 
former  protesting  and  resisting,  and  the  latter  helpless,  but  happy  under 
the  fascinations  of  her  marvellous  words.  Blest  is  he  who  can  give  himself 
up  to  the  delights  of  her  entertainment,  and  feast  on  its  dainties  without  a 
doubt  of  their  wholesomeness,  and  without  fear  of  possible  mental  bewil 
derment  or  moral  headache. 

"  The  Thief  in  the  Night "  is  a  very  peculiar  story,  not  less  in  its  con 
ception  than  in  the  manner  of  its  execution.  It  opens  with  a  murder,  —  a 
mysterious  tragedy,  —  the  victim  of  which  lies  pale  on  his  bloody  bed,  with 
weeping  friends  about  him.  His  widow,  and  the  man  who  loves  her,  and 
whom  she  has  loved,  stand  together  looking  at  the  dead  man ;  and  then  the 
author  drops  the  curtain,  to  be  raised  again  in  due  season.  The  conviction 
of  every  reader  at  the  end  of  this  scene  is  that  the  husband  has  been  slain 
by  the  wife,  for  love  of  him  who  was  dearer  to  her.  .  .  .  This  book  will 
have  many  readers;  its  fascinations  are  undeniable;  the  author  has  no 
superior  in  our  literature  in  the  deft  manipulation  of  words,  and  this 
felicity  is  attended,  somewhat  incongruously,  it  seems,  by  a  power  of  intense 
dramatic  expression  that  gives  substantial  strength  to  her  stories. 

From  a  Regular  Correspondent  of  the  New  York  Tribune. 
BOSTON,  Feb.  29. —  The  variety  of  thieves  is  infinite.  Some  plundei 
custom-houses,  and  some  steal  hearts,  and  between  these  offences  are 
various  gradations.  The  arch  thief  of  souls  is  not  the  only  one  who  cornea 
to  us  in  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  light.  A  very  captivating  thief,  indeed,  was 
the  one  who  last  night  robbed  me  alike  of  sleep  and  ennui,  —  "A  Thief  in 
the  Night;  "  for  that  is  the  quaint  title  of  a  book  by  Mrs.  Harriet  Prescott 
Spofford,  a  new  and  really  wonderful  romance,  which  Roberts  Brothers 
are  about  to  publish.  The  reader  does  not  willingly  lay  it  down  between 
commencement  and  finis.  .  .  .  There  is  no  break  in  the  breathless  interest ; 
no  trace  of  weariness  or  flagging  anywhere;  no  place  where  it  seems  to 
you  that  the  wonderful  story  which  L«)lds  you  like  the  eye  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner  could  have  known  a  pause.  .  .  .  The  whole  interest  is  concentrated 
In  three  strong  human  souls,  brought  out  with  lights  and  shades  as  vivid 
as  Rembrandt  used  in  his  pictures,  —  souls  which  terribly  suffered  and 
sinned,  but  with  the  likeness  of  the  Divine  in  them  still.  It  is  not  un 
common,  in  books  at  least,  to  marry  the  wrong  man,  thinking  him  to  be 
the  right  one.  Catherine  made  the  less  common  mistake  of  marrying  the 
right  man,  believing  him  to  be  the  wrong  one;  and  out  of  this  miscon 
ception  grows  the  tragedy  of  the  tale. 

StM  everywhere.     Mailed  postpaid  by  the  Publishers, 

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Miss  Alcotfs  First  Novel. 


MOODS:    A  NOVEL. 


BY   LOUISA   M.    ALCOTT, 

Author  of  "Little  Women,"   "Little  Men,"   "An   Old-Fashioned  Girl," 
"Work,"  "  Hospital  Sketches,"  &c. 

"  '  Moods,'  the  earliest,  least  successful,  but  really  best  of  Louisa  M.  Alcott's 
novels,  has  been  republished  by  Roberts  Brothers.  .  .  .  It  is  pleasant  to  see  Miss 
Alcott  recur  in  her  preface  with  loyal  devotion  to  this  first  of  her  literary  children. 
'  I  wish,'  she  says,  *to  give  my  first  novel,  with  all  its  imperfections  on  its  head,  a 
place  among  its  more  successful  sisters,  for  into  it  went  the  life,  liberty,  and  en 
thusiasm  that  no  later  book  can  possess.'  "  —  Our  Continent. 

"  Miss  Alcott's  books  are  remarkable,  among  other  things,  for  their  brilliant 
characterizations.  Her  creations  are  far  enough  from  being  'airy  nothings; '  they 
have  '  flesh  and  blood.'  She  ranks,  justly,  with  the  best  writers  of  American  fic 
tion  ;  her  stories  have  achieved  a  place  of  their  own  in  American  letters,  and  one 
which  they  are  likely  to  hold  permanently."  —  Chicag-o  Standard. 

"  It  will  be  new  to  many  of  the  present  generation,  and  those  to  whom  it  is  not 
new  will  read  it  with  interest  and  curiosity,  to  mark  the  changes  that  have  been 
made  by  its  author.  These  are  not  so  many  or  radical  as  might  have  been  ex 
pected.  The  chief  alteration  is  in  the  ending  of  the  story,  which  strikes  us  as  an 
improvement.  The  work  is,  except  in  occasional  episodes  and  a  few  bits  of  de 
scription,  unlike  the  manner  with  which  the  public  are  familiar  in  Miss  Alcott's 
writings  It  is  a  psychological  study,  made  with  extraordinary  power  when  it  is 
remembered  that  it  was  originally,  and  still  is  in  its  essential  features,  the  work  of 
a  young  girl  of  eighteen."  — Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

"  '  Moods,'  which  is  a  republication  of  her  first  novel  in  an  improved  form, 
teaches  the  same  high  moral  lesson  as  her  numerous  other  works.  .  .  .  Healthier 
reading  than  Miss  Alcott's  it  is  impossible  to  find  ;  and  the  high  literary  character 
of  her  work,  its  freedom  from  all  cant  and  mere  '  preachiness,'  recommend  it  to  a 
class  of  readers  whose  discrimination  and  cultivated  taste  are  nauseated  by  the  so- 
called  '  goody-good'  of  the  period."  —  Si.  Louis  Spectator. 

One  volume.     16mo.     Cloth,  Black  and  Gold.    Price,  $1.50. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


Publishers'      ^  Advertisement. 


With  the  issue  of  "  Aschenbroedel  "  the  Second  Series 
of  "No  Name  "  novels  is  completed,  in  twelve  volumes, 
viz. :  — 

Signer  Monaldini's  Niece  ;  The  Colonel's  Opera  Cloak ; 
His  Majesty,  Myself :  Mrs.  Beauchamp  Brown;  Sal 
vage  ;  Don  John  ;  The  Tsar's  Window  ;  Manuela 
Paredes ;  Baby  Rue ;  My  Wife  and  My  Wife's  Sister  ; 
Her  Picture  ;  Aschenbroedel. 

The  First  Series  comprises  twelve  novels,  viz.  :  — 

Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice  ;  Afterglow  ;  Hetty's  Strange 
History;  Is  That  All?  Will  Denbigh,  Nobleman; 
Kismet  ;  The  Wolf  at  the  Door  ;  The  Great  Match  ; 
Marmorne ;  Mirage  ;  A  Modern  Mephistopheles ; 
Gemini.  And  two  poetical  volumes  :  Deirdre,  a 
novel  in  verse  ;  a  Masque  of  Poets,  Original  Poems 
by  Fifty  Poets,  written  specially  for  this  book,  in 
cluding  "Guy  Vernon,"  an  entire  novelette  inverse. 

The  publishers  are  glad  to  think  that  this  enterprise, 
conceived  and  planned  by  them,  has  met  with  success. 
Says  that  excellent  authority,  "  Scribner's  Monthly  : " 
"  No  one  of  the  numerous  series  of  novels  with  which 
the  country  has  been  deluged  of  late  contains  as  many 
good  volumes  of  fiction  as  the  '  No  Name.' "  They 
point  with  pride  to  the  large  number  of  novels  in  both 
series  which  are  permanent  favorites  with  the  reading 
public. 


NO   NAME   [THIRD]    SERIES. 

The  Third  Series  of  "  No  Name  "  Novels  will  be  com 
menced  immediately,  in  volumes  of  uniform  size  with  the 
First  and  Second  Series,  but  with  a  designating  style  of 
binding. 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS. 

BOSTON,  Midsummer,  1882. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


NO    NAME    [SECOND]    SERIES. 


HER   PICTURE. 

"  One  of  the  brightest  and  freshest  bits  of  fiction  we  have  read  this  season  is 
1  Her  Picture,'  the  last  issue  in  the  '  No  Name  '  Series.  The  book  is  crammed 
full  of  bright  things,  and  the  reader  will  find  it  a  delightful  contrast  to  most  of  the 
so-called  society  novels  of  the  day."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

" The  latest  volume  of  the  second  series  of  'No  Name'  novels  surpasses,  in 
many  respects,  any  of  its  twenty-three  predecessors,  in  what  has  proved  to  be  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  successful  series  of  novels  ever  issued  from  the  American 
press.  Like  most  works  of  a  similar  character,  love  forms  the  principal  factor  in 
both  its  warp  and  woof,  but  it  is  a  love  story  told  with  such  piquancy  and  pathos 
that  it  charms  and  delights  the  reader  without  creating  an  inordinate  desire  to  un 
ravel  the  plot  at  the  expense  of  more  lasting  pleasure.  The  author,  whoever  he 
or  she  may  be,  writes  with  a  degree  of  power  and  brilliancy  that  alone  pertain  to 
true  genius  and  extended  experience.  The  conversational  parts,  which,  in  many 
books,  one  is  often  tempted  to  skip,  are  bright  and  witty.  Rue,  the  heroine,  is  an 
original,  lovely  creation.  .  .  .  We  recommend  '  Her  Picture.'"  —  Courier. 

"  '  Her  Picture,'  the  most  recent  of  the  '  No  Name  '  novels,  is  a  graceful  love 
story,  pleasantly  told.  The  hero  and  heroine  are  an  artist  and  a  pretty  orphan 
girl  respectively.  He  meets  her  while  on  a  sketching  tramp,  paints  her  picture, 
and  falls  in  love  with  her.  Sha  returns  his  passion.  Presently  he  grows  jealous 
of  a  rival  and  quits  the  object  of  his  affection.  He  sends  the  picture,  however, 
to  the  exhibition,  where  it  makes  a  hit  and  gives  him  fame.  The  girl  falls  into  a 
fortune,  and  eventually  brings  up  before  her  portrait.  She  encounters  her  lover 
there,  all  is  explained,  and  everything  ends  happily.  This  is  narrated  spiritedly, 
and  the  whole  is  characterized  by  good  literary  taste,  excellent  judgment,  and 
brightness  of  style. "  —  Saturday  Gazette. 

"  A  few  years  since,  Roberts  Brothers,  of  Boston,  commenced  the  publication 
of  a  series  of  novels  called  the  '  No  Name  Series.'  From  the  very  first  the  pub 
lic  has  been  greatly  impressed  with  the  character  of  the  novels  issued  by  this 
house.  There  was  an  originality,  a  clearness  and  purity  of  style  that  unfortunately 
has  not  been  remarked  in  works  of  fiction  of  these  later  days.  The  '  No  Name  ' 
Series  give  no  very  startling  scenes  or  strained  love  passages,  but  abound  in  quiet 
bits  of  humor,  interesting  information,  and  natural  displays  of  affection.  The 
last  of  the  'No  Name*  Series  published  is  called  '  Her  Picture.'  It  is  a  'tale 
most  charmingly  told.'  The  interest  of  the  reader  never  flags,  and  regret  is  only 
felt  when  the  book  is  finished.  The  character  of  Rue  is  quaint  and  altogether 
well  depicted.  One  learns  to  love  her,  and  thoroughly  sympathize  with  all  her 
troubles,  and  rejoices  with  her  when  at  last  she  is  left  happy  and  prosperous."  — 
Denver  Republican. 

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Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  booksellers.     When  not  to  be 
found,  send  directly  to  the  publisher s, 

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